


Play Alongs

by SarahW



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW
Summary: A small collection of one-shots and play alongs featuring Vegeta, Bulma and, at times, other members of the Briefs family and the DBZ Universe...





	1. Memories, Pink Balloons and Haircuts

**Author's Note:**

> So, lately I've been receiving a few Vegebul play alongs on my tumblr account (@sarahw-world) and I thought I'd post them here too...
> 
> I hope you like them!

**1\. Memories**

 

**Anonymous asked: You wanna play along? Scene: Vegeta open the door to Trunkss room and his eyes widen with surprise at what Trunks was doing ... You finish the scene**

Vegeta’s eyes widened at the sight of his oldest child sitting on the floor, holding an old photo album in his hands and looking at it with sad, inquisitive eyes.

“Trunks?” He finally said, awkwardly.

Trunks raised his eyes, startled by his father’s unexpected presence.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Your mother sent me to tell you dinner is served. She just finished feeding your sister.”

“Oh, right…” He mumbled, closing the photo album and standing up, holding it tightly against his chest as he stared shyly at the floor. He walked towards his father, who was standing by the door with crossed arms.

“Um, dad?”

“What is it, boy?” The Prince asked, quickly realizing something was bothering his son.

“I… I was just going through this photos of me as a baby and, you know… I saw mom and grandma and grandpa but, uh… Not you… I was just wondering why that is…”

Vegeta’s eyes widened for an instant and he suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He’d known, ever since his wife had announced her second pregnancy, that things would be very different with Bra. What he hadn’t anticipated was his son asking these kinds of questions or, at the very least, not so soon.

He exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to find the right words so as not hurt his child’s feelings.

“Things… Things were different at the time, Trunks. I was a different man back then.”

Trunks’ face fell into a sad frown, and the Prince felt his chest tighten at the sight of the boy’s bright blue eyes filling with disappointment. It was the same look his wife had whenever he’d unintentionally hurt her feelings in the past.

“So… We didn’t do stuff together when I was a baby like you and Bra do now?”

Vegeta shook his head slowly.

“No, Trunks, we did not. It was only when you started to walk and I commenced your training that we started to spend some time together.”

The boy bit his lower lip, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears. He knew his father detested public displays of sentimentality.

Before he had time to retort, he felt a warm, heavy hand on top of his head, softly ruffling his hair.

“I immediately saw your potential, boy,” his father said solemnly. “And I knew someday you’d become a fine Saiyan warrior and you’d make me proud.”

Trunks eyes brightened at his father’s unusual words of encouragement.

“Really?” He enquired excitedly.

His father grunted.

“You already have, Trunks. Now let’s go have some dinner, boy.”

Vegeta turned around, closely followed by his son, who seemed to be in much better spirits than he was before, but the Prince thought that, perhaps, he could still give him a little additional push.

“Are you done with your homework for the weekend?” He asked while they were entering the large kitchen, where Bulma and the rest of the family were already waiting at the table.

“Yeah, why?“

“If your mother is okay with it, we could do some night training after dinner. There’s no school tomorrow, right?”

“Really, dad? Cool!” Trunks replied enthusiastically. He then walked towards his mom, who was still holding a now very sleepy Bra in her arms and gave them both a big hug.

“Hey, sweetie! Aw, that’s nice!” Bulma said, hugging him back. “Did you wash your hands?”

Trunks rolled his eyes.

“Nope…”

“Go wash them then, young man…”

Trunks run out of the kitchen while Vegeta took a sit next to his wife, who leant towards him curiously.

“What did say to him?” She whispered in his ear.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think he was feeling a bit down earlier.”

“Was he?” The Saiyan asked, feigning indifference and already digging into his first steak.

Bulma leant back on the chair, holding baby Bra a little closer and softly patting her back.

“I don’t know what you just said to him, but whatever it was, it worked. He was beaming.”

The Prince shrugged.

“I just told him the truth, woman,” he replied mysteriously.

Bulma smiled, lovingly kissing her newborn’s rosy cheek and whispering against her soft skin.

“You see, baby girl? Your daddy does have a heart…”

 

 

**2\. Pink Balloons**

 

**Anonymous asked: Play along: Bulma turned to Vegeta,exhaled and said, "Isn't this so romantic?"**

Vegeta skeptically sided-eyed his wife as she held him tight.

_‘Romantic? What the Hell?’_

Sure, he was the Prince of a dead race, a race of dangerous, deadly warriors, so he probably wasn’t the right person to decide on whether something was romantic or not but, seriously, how his woman could find this situation romantic at all was an enigma to him…

He reluctantly wrapped one of his powerful arms around her, only allowing himself this small gesture of affection due to the fact that Bulma had made sure they’d embark in this little adventure alone, just the two of them.

_Just the two of them…_

Alone inside a blasted, giant pink hot air balloon, flying in the middle of the mountains at sunset.

Damn humans and their yearly day dedicated to _‘love’_ , whatever the Hell that meant…

_He used to kill people for a living, for fuck’s sake!_

_What happened?_

One look at her beautiful, peaceful face told him exactly what had happened to him: through the years, little by little, he’d found himself falling in love irreversibly with this woman and, now, it was too late to go back to his cold-hearted evil self.

_Now, it was pink hot air balloon time…_

“What? You don’t find it romantic, babe?” She asked hopefully with a cute frown on her pretty face.

He simply grunted and shrugged lightly, not giving a damn about the pink balloon. Honestly, he was only enduring the pink torture because he knew Trunks was going to be spending the entire weekend at the Son’s family house and that always meant the little female had arranged some kind of intimate celebration for them afterwards, hopefully something really naughty…

But it seemed Mother Nature had others plans in store for him today.

“Oh my Gods! Kill it, Vegeta! KILL IT!!!” Bulma started yelling, frantically jumping up and down in the middle of the balloon.

“What? WHAT IS IT?” Vegeta yelled, his protective instincts kicking in in full force. He grabbed his mate and flew out of the balloon, immediately turning it into ashes with a ki blast.

He looked at his woman, but instead of the loving look of gratitude he was expecting to encounter, he was faced instead with a fierce scowl and a puny punch on his shoulder.

“You, idiot!”

“Hey! What did you do that for?” He asked, dumbfounded by his mate’s behavior.

“I told you to kill the damn bee, not to incinerate the balloon! Dammit, Vegeta!”

_A bee._

_A fucking bee._

_She was yelling and jumping about a damned motherfucking bee._

He knew it.

Not only was he paying for the sins and evil deeds he had committed in this life, he must have done something terrible in a past life as well in order to deserve this kind of punishment…

Just as he was about to give his wife a piece of his mind he witnessed a change of attitude in her.

“Nevermind…” Bulma whispered miserably. “I just wanted the two of us to do something special together. I don’t know why I even bother…”

“Woman,” he asked quietly. “What is so special about flying in a damn balloon anyway? You do realize I can fly, right?”

“Well, yeah! But you never fly me anywhere anyway, Mister _‘I’m gonna spend every last minute I have left of life inside my precious GR until every single one of my bones dies of boredom’_!”

He stared at her thoughtfully.

She was right, of course. He’d been neglecting her a lot recently, not spending quite enough time with her as he should. Between his training and her work duties, both in her father’s company and taking care of Trunks, he could see how his woman might feel like he’d been disregarding her feelings and needs lately.

Vegeta looked at her and smirked evilly.

“Hold on to me, little woman,” he whispered in her ear.

“Vegeta, what…? WOW!” She yelled, her frail arms clutching his neck, holding on for dear life as he flew her up, up into the sky, swirling, spinning and twirling playfully through the clouds.

Bulma could feel the cold wind against her face, her husband’s high-spirited movements forming butterflies in her stomach.

They kept ascending until they rised above the white clouds, which now looked like fluffy, cottoned candy from their new perspective.

When he looked at Bulma again, he knew he’d made the right choice: she was beaming. Her eyes sparkling in exhilaration, wiggling her legs in excitement, looking like a little girl that was just getting to play with a brand new toy.

“Oh, Gods! Vegeta! That was so amazing!”

She kissed him passionately, and Vegeta happily joined her, glad to see he’d finally done something that pleased her. When she finally broke the kiss, she smiled thankfully at him.

“Can we do this again sometime?”

The warrior nodded.

“I don’t see why not… But, Bulma?”

“Yeah?”

“No more giant pink balloons again, or the Gods help me…”  

 

 

**3\. Haircuts**

 

**Anonymous asked: Play Along 2: Vegeta throws open the door making it slam against the wall. "Boy, we need to talk."**

Trunks and Goten immediately dropped the controllers of the videogame they’d both been playing for the past couple of hours, knowing oh, too well they wouldn’t be allowed to see each other, let alone play together for a really, really long time.

“Beat it, boy!” Vegeta yelled at Goten, making Goku’s kid get out of the house faster than the speed of light without so much as a _‘good luck’_ to his friend.

Vegeta stood menacingly in front of his son, arms crossed and a fierce scowl on his face that would scare off the Devil himself.

“What did I fucking tell you about turning Super Saiyan in the house, boy?”

Trunks was as pale as a ghost by now.

“D-Dad, I… I’m s-sorry…”

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!”

“I-I know, dad… B-But Goten and I, we were just… You know, h-he told me he was finally stronger than me and I… I j-just wanted to prove him wrong…”

“We already know you’re stronger than that third-class spawn, boy! That’s not the fucking point! Did you even think about your mother?”

Trunks winced and shook his head shyly.

“N-No, dad… We weren’t thinking about that…”

The Prince finally lost it, grabbing Trunks by his gi and lifting his body in the air.

“Well, that’s the fucking problem, boy! Your mother is only human! Do you have any idea what could have happened if…?”

He shivered.

No, he didn’t even want to think about what could have happened if Bulma had gotten closer to those brats while they were in their ascended state at full power. Today, they’d been lucky the consequences had been so insignificant, at least, in his opinion.

“Your mother has been crying for the past couple of hours, boy, and she apparently had to call some idiot to fix the damage you’ve caused!”

“B-But, dad, it was just her hair…” Trunks whined, not fully understanding what the big deal was anyway. It wasn’t as if he’d actually hurt his mom, he’d only burned her hair off a bit…

“I don’t give a shit about it either, Trunks, but, apparently, she does! And that’s not the fucking point! You could have killed her, boy!”

Trunks remained silent for a moment, horrified by the image of his mother getting hurt or even killed by his own power. He was sweating profusely and didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Alright, boys, that’s enough…” A soft voice said.

They both turned towards the door, where a much calmer Bulma stood, arm crossed, waiting for her two favorite men to stop fighting.

“You can put him down now, Vegeta,” she requested gently.

“But, woman! He could have…!”

“I know, Vegeta. But he didn’t. Besides, Trunks is sorry, aren’t you sweetie?”

Trunks nodded nervously, real tears of regret in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, mom! I really am!” He said as Vegeta finally put him down. He run to his mother and gave her a hug, which she gratefully accepted.

“It’s OK, baby. But you have to be more careful the next time, and always listen to your dad’s advice, you promise?”

“Promise!” The boy replied with conviction, clumsily drying off his tears with the back of his hand. He knew how much his father hated it when he cried.

“Go straight to the GR, boy. I want you to start doing push-ups at 200G until I get there. Understood?” Vegeta ordered, cooler than before but still extremely angry.

“Yes, Sir!” The child responded, nodding again and running out of the room. When he was in the middle of the hallway, he stopped, turning around and looking at his mother again.

“Mom…” Trunks timidly said.

“Yeah?”

“You look nice!” He smiled, turning back again and running in the direction of the Gravity Room.

Bulma chuckled, shaking her head.

“I guess it’s the price I have to pay for living amongst strong, powerful Saiyan men, uh?” She asked almost to herself. However, when she raised her head and turned her gaze towards her husband once again, she found him staring at her in an almost mysterious way.

“Vegeta?”

He didn’t talk, slowly walking towards her and standing right in front of her, uncrossing his arms.

“What is it?”

The moment Vegeta licked his lips she realized what this was all about and she smirked knowingly, relieved that the whole thing hadn’t turned out to be a complete disaster.

“Well, well… It looks like somebody _really_ likes my new haircut…” She whispered seductively, running two of her soft fingers lazily across her husband’s now very hot cheek.

He grunted, grabbing her ass all of a sudden and picking her up, making her automatically wrap her arms and legs around him. He crashed his lips against hers as he walked her determinedly to their room.

When he finally reached their bedroom, he locked the door and dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, making Bulma giggle in delight.

_Oh yeah…_

It looked like poor little Trunks would be doing push-ups in the Gravity Room for a very, _very_ long time…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think?
> 
> I know they're just silly little stories, but if you're interested in me sharing them here too just let me know!


	2. A Prince's Proposal

**4\. A Prince's Proposal**

 

**Anonymous asked: The characters: Vegeta and Bulma. AU: Future/sci-fi. Setting: Vegeta has a hardcore crush on Bulma and finally gets the guts to express it to her. It doesn't go as planned.**

Vegeta walked into the tiny repair shop and stood in front of the counter, removing his dirty white gloves and ringing the bell.

“I’ll be there in a second!” A loud, feminine voice yelled from the back room, accompanied by a string of ear-piercing, strident noises. “Son of a…! Damn it!” The woman roared.

The Prince chuckled at the crazy sounds that resonated throughout the small shop. He couldn’t help but be amused by Bulma’s antics, always fascinated by her each and every move, whether it was seeing her small but curvy body bent over as she was fixing one of the planet’s many space pods or simply wiping off the sweat from her creamy forehead with the back of her hand…

“Hey, Vegeta! What’s up?” She said cheerfully, leaning on the counter with one hand and taking a large gulp from a cold drink with the other, offering him a fantastic glimpse of her generous cleavage at the same time.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, inwardly cursing himself for his complete and utter inability to talk like a regular person whenever the Earth woman was around. Ever since they’d met, about four months earlier, when he’d brought her one of his broken scouters, he’d found himself fabricating excuse after excuse in order to be able to run into her, his body constantly begging him to spend time with the stunning woman. Her bright blue eyes and matching long wavy hair were the first thing that had caught his attention, together with her extremely evident intelligence and vivid personality. She was funny, as cute as a button and yet, at times, she possessed a tongue and temper that could put any Saiyan to shame.  

“Are you alright?” Bulma softly asked, frowning in concern. “Are you here to pick up your scouter?”

Vegeta nodded gracelessly, feeling his rough hands tensely clutch the border of the chipped wooden counter.

“Alright…” She continued, still feeling like there was something wrong with him today. “Let me go get it!”

She turned around, getting back inside the back room with a pair of _very_ starving Saiyan eyes fixed on her graceful movements. As soon as she left the room, Vegeta banged his fist on the counter, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

_‘What the Hell was wrong with him? Since when did a puny, insignificant female have this effect on him? She should be the one feeling nervous! No! Grateful! That’s right! She should be feeling fucking grateful that an extraordinary warrior such as himself had chosen her as a future mate…’_

Today was supposed to be the day.

He’d been planning it for days, ever since he’d abandoned the planet to go on his last mission two weeks ago. It had turned out to be one of the most dangerous tasks Frieza had assigned him and his comrades to do. Before he parted, he’d picked up his newly repaired armor from Bulma’s shop and, later, he’d had to battle the bastards from the planet he’d been ordered to purge while he carried her sweet, unmistakable scent all over him. It had been both intoxicating and maddening, and he’d finally had the courage to acknowledge to himself what he’d been afraid had happened ever since he’d first laid eyes on the woman: he’d fallen in love with her.

He’d fallen for this weak, fragile creature whose planet, and most of her entire race, had been destroyed by his evil Master no more than six months ago. And yet, her brave spirit and exuberant personality had remained untouched, luring him like a moth to a flame.

_No other woman would do._

He was supposed to leave on a mission in less than twenty-four hours, and he couldn’t leave without a promise: her promise that she would be his and his alone, and that she’d be waiting for him when he’d return from his latest duty.

“There you go!” She said proudly, sitting casually on top of the counter, right next to him, and handing him the scouter.

He took it, making a phenomenal effort not to let his hands shake at his uneasiness.

“Thank you,” he finally managed to reply in a low, uncomfortable voice.

“Um, you’re welcome…”

Bulma could see him fidgeting with the small device, something unusual in a man that had always been so strong, proud and confident, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was bothering him.

They both shared an uncomfortable silence for a minute before Bulma attempted to break the ice a little.

“It’s strange, you know?”

“What’s strange?” He answered immediately, secretly grateful for the woman’s natural chattiness.

“Well… Your scouter… It wasn’t really, you know… It wasn’t really broken.”

_‘Shit!’_

“It wasn’t?”

“Nope. It worked well, the only thing wrong with it were a couple of pieces missing. It was as if someone had just removed them…”

He knew it, the woman was too damn smart for her own good and, of course, that’s why he’d fallen so hard for her.

“I temporarily lent it to one of my comrades,” he lied.

“Really? Which one?”

“Nappa.”

“Nappa… That’s the bald one, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see…” She replied unconvinced. “Well… I’d say your comrade must have been the one to take those missing pieces…”

She jumped from the counter, landing on the floor and walking towards a small sink in the corner of the room. She grabbed a small white cloth, dampening it and wringing out the excess water as she proceeded to remove several grease stains from her smooth ivory skin.

“Where’s the human male?” He finally asked, almost hypnotized by her elegant actions.

“Uh?” Bulma replied distractedly. “You mean Yamcha?”

The Prince grunted.

“Oh, he doesn’t work here anymore. He’s too… You know… I guess _‘clumsy’_ would be the right word,” she snickered, shaking her head. “Now he’s a cook in a restaurant downtown.”

Vegeta couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “A cook?”

Bulma laughed.

“Well… That’s what he says… To tell you the truth, I’m sure he’s more like a kitchen helper, or even a dishwasher. You know Yamcha, almost everything he says is a lie or some kind of exaggeration…”

“So, you’re not mates anymore?” Vegeta asked cautiously, the question making Bulma raise her head in shock.

“Mates?” She asked wide-eyed.

“Yes, mates… You know, like…”

“Like a boyfriend?”

“Is that how it’s called in your planet?”

“I guess… You mean like a partner, right? Like a couple?”

“That is correct.”

“Gods, no! Ugh! No!” She replied, horrified. “I mean, I thought he was cute when I met him, and it was nice to find a few people from my home planet in here but… No… He’s just not for me…”

The Prince walked towards her, standing by her side as she kept grooming herself, and thinking that this could finally be his window of opportunity.

“I see… And why is that?” He asked casually.

Bulma looked at him for an instant, blinking a few times and tilting her head to the side thoughtfully.

“I don’t know… Well, obviously, he lies a lot, so he’s not very trustworthy, which is a huge turn off in a guy. But he’s also, kind of… I guess the right word is soft.”

“Soft.”

“Yeah…” She shrugged, going back to her task and languidly rubbing the cloth across her neck.

Vegeta smirked triumphantly.

_Oh yeah, he knew just what kind of a man this little female needed…_

“So, what you’re saying is, you are looking for a man who is strong.”

“Um, I guess? I mean, I’m not even really looking for a…”

“Like a Saiyan Prince,” he declared solemnly.

His words made Bulma instantly drop her cloth and look at him in complete shock. One look at him told her he was dead serious.

_‘Wow…’_

“Ve-Vegeta, I…” Before she could find the right words to reject his proposal, the warrior gently held her pale hand between his much larger ones.

“Bulma,” he said with an intensity she had never witnessed in any man before. “If you take me as your mate I swear, on my Saiyan honor, to protect and cherish you, fighting your battles by your side, for all Eternity.”

Bulma felt her legs tremble, her pulse racing while this man, the most attractive man she’d ever known, basically asked her to marry him.

_‘Why? And, why today, of all days?’_

She wanted to say yes, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life, but she couldn’t, not when she was so damn close…

Tonight was the night she was about to escape the planet in search of the mythical magic Dragon Balls that would allow her, if the legends turned out to be true, to wish her home planet and its inhabitants back to life once again.

_She couldn’t do it._

She couldn’t give up on her biggest dream for a man, especially not for a ruthless warrior that possibly had no real concept of what love truly was and would probably end up breaking her poor little heart eventually anyway.

“Vegeta,” she sighed. “I… I really appreciate your proposal and… It’s, it’s very, _very_ tempting but… I just can’t accept,” she finally replied, kindly removing her now very sweaty hand from his own. If she kept feeling his warm touch much longer, she didn’t trust herself.

The Saiyan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

_Well, he hadn’t seen this one coming…_

He cleared his throat and raised his chin proudly in a pathetic attempt to hide his humiliation.

“I see. May I ask why?” He enquired in the most neutral voice he could project.

“Well, uh… I’m leaving tonight, you see? My boss gave me a couple of weeks off and I’m going on a trip,” she lied.

She was going on a trip, alright, but her boss didn’t even know he’d never see her again after today, not that he’d notice anyway until she was long gone, since he barely spent any time in the small repair shop.

“A trip?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Um, uh, it’s this small planet called Namek. I’ve heard it’s really nice, and very similar to Earth…”

Vegeta squinted his eyes suspiciously, but chose to say nothing more. He’d had enough humiliation for a day anyway, so he walked towards the counter and grabbed his white gloves.

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, still avoiding her gaze, unable to stand her pity.

“Uh, you know what? This one’s on the house!” She replied.

She tried to appear joyful, but deep down she felt heartbroken, not just for him, but for herself as well. It was hard to believe but, suddenly she felt the strong urge to throw caution to the wind and say yes to this enigmatic, handsome Saiyan warrior.

“I’m afraid I can’t accept that. Here,” he said, offering her a small black card. “You’ll need funds for your trip I suppose.”

Bulma just took the card, unwilling to start an argument with the man.

He nodded, his dark eyes penetrating her very soul, and he turned around, exiting the shop and walking away from her life.

“Woman,” he declared, still giving her his back. “You will never find a man more suited to be your mate.”

The earthling swallowed heavily.

“I don’t doubt it, Vegeta,” she whispered in all honesty.

He grunted in confirmation and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a very confused Bulma sitting heavily on a small chair and on the verge of tears.

_‘What just happened?’_

A few hours later, a mortified Saiyan Prince was still trying to bury his shame in alcohol.

“Pour me another! And leave the fucking bottle!” He yelled.

“Motherfucker…” Vegeta mumbled to himself while Nappa and Raditz kept staring in surprise, never having seen their Prince in such a poor state.

“That filthy fucking lizard motherfucker… I’m sick of this shit!” He yelled, slamming the glass against the table.

“Okay, I have to ask. Did something happen today, Vegeta?” Nappa finally enquired.

“Mind your own fucking business, baldy…”

“Come on, buddy, don’t be like that! We just got a sweet deal, you know?” The bigger man said, leaning a little into Vegeta. “Raditz just brought me the details of our next mission. We’re leaving tonight, and it looks like child’s play. Look… It’s this small planet called Namek, and apparently the inhabitants are really weak. There’s a bonus involved, and all we have to do is retrieve some…”

“The fuck did you just say?” Vegeta asked him in inebriated shock.

“A-About what?”

“The planet… What’s it called?”

“Um, Namek?”

“Sonofabitch…” The Prince slurred, smiling lazily.

_‘Oh… This was so damn sweet it had to be fattening…’_

He stood from his chair all of a sudden, drunkenly walking towards the exit door.

“Vegeta? What the fuck is going on?” Raditz asked in bewilderment at the sudden change of attitude in his Prince.

“Just pay for the drinks and let’s get the Hell out of this planet, asshole!”

Vegeta got out of the bar, silently allowing the cold, crisp air of the night to clear up his mind.

_He was going to need it._

The next time he faced the woman, he wouldn’t fail.

He’d make her his, showing her in whatever way possible that they were made for each other, whatever the cost, even if he had to slaughter that despicable lizard bastard himself in order to keep her safe forever.

Vegeta didn’t know that, in that very moment, a blue haired woman was sitting on her small bed, her few belongings all packed up as she waited in the dark for the three earthlings that would join her in her new adventure: a bald monk, a dirty perverted old man that possessed a surprisingly great talent for martial arts and Yamcha.

In her trembling hands, she held a small object: the black card a certain Saiyan Prince had given her just hours earlier.

She’d finally checked the contents of it.

Ten million credits.

A small fortune, enough to purchase even a small planet if she wished.

Bulma stood by the window, her watery eyes lost in the starry sky. Now, more than ever, she was fully determined to find the Dragon Balls and make her wishes come true.

One of those wishes now included the promise of getting to see her perfect man one more time.

Somehow, somewhere, she knew they’d meet again, and when they did, she would never let him go…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm... This one got a bit too long, I hope you guys liked it!


	3. A Prince's Proposal II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel that quite a few people wanted to the story on chapter two, "A Prince's Proposal".
> 
> Here it is by popular demand!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t turn this into a full multi-chapter fanfic right now because I’m still fully committed to my fic “A Dark Heart”, but I hope you enjoy this little one-shot and, if people are interested, I might consider writing a proper Namek AU in the future.
> 
> (By the way, I’ll have less time to write, for personal reasons, for the next couple of weeks, but I already started the next chapter of “A Dark Heart”, and hopefully I’ll finish it by the end of this week. Sorry to keep you waiting!)
> 
> NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright guys, I've had quite a few people wanting me to turn "A Prince's Proposal" into a proper fanfic, so I will. I want to work more on "A Dark Heart" first though, but the story seems to have potential for some people, so I'll try to continue it in the near future.

**5\. A Prince's Proposal II**

 

Vegeta landed carefully on Namek’s blue grass. Nearby, Nappa and Raditz were partaking in some friendly sparring as they waited for their Prince to return.

He’d spent the past couple of hours inspecting the planet without success, as usual.

The three Saiyan warriors had landed on the small planet three days ago, and so far, they’d only managed to gather up six out of the seven mysterious Dragon Balls Frieza had instructed them to collect for him.

No sign of the seventh Dragon Ball.

_And no sign of Bulma…_

He run his hands through his hair frustratingly, feeling as if he were running out of excuses in front of his comrades. Vegeta knew they’d already become suspicious about the strange behavior he’d been displaying ever since they’d embarked on this mission.

“Hey, Vegeta!” Raditz said, panting loudly as a consequence of Nappa’s amicable ass kicking. “Did you find it?”

The Prince shook his head, staring angrily into the ground.

“Man… Seriously?” Nappa sighed. “Vegeta, trust me. I know you said we couldn’t kill anyone on this mission, and I’m not even going to ask why, but, you know, if you just let me kill a couple of those green assholes, you can bet your ass they’ll start singing. I’m sure they’re hiding the last one somewhere…”

Vegeta crossed his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling heatedly.

_He’d fucked up._

_He’d fucked up, big time…_

_The woman wasn’t even on the planet._

He’d given her every last credit he owned in this world and the woman had, very possibly, just taken the money and run. And who could blame her? He probably would had done exactly the same thing under similar circumstances.

_And that wasn’t even the worst thing._

Sure, he’d given her the money so she’d be protected, free to go and buy whatever she needed, but Space was a dangerous place, and a gorgeous creature like Bulma would always find herself in danger unless she had a strong man by her side to protect her.

_Fuck!_

_If only she’d accepted his proposal…_

_Wasn’t he good enough?_ That was the problem, wasn’t it? He’d been thinking non-stop about the possible reasons behind her rejection and the only thing he could come up with was that the woman was, most likely, repulsed by him.

 _And why not?_ He worked for Frieza, after all…

Sure, it was against his will, and the Gods knew the only reason why he hadn’t rebelled against the slimy bastard yet was because he still wasn’t strong enough to defeat him and he didn’t want to die before he could take him down, thus avenging his planet and his people.

He’d even ordered Nappa and Raditz not to kill anyone during this assignment, in some insignificant, pathetic attempt to become a better man.

_For her…_

And now the woman wasn’t even where she’d promised to be.

“I’m going to take another look. If I can’t find it this time, we’re killing one of those bastards and burning this place down…” Vegeta announced irritably.   

“Now we’re talking!” Raditz said happily.

The Prince turned around, ready to take off.

“You two, stay here! And, Nappa?”

“Yeah?”

“Do not lift a fucking finger against anyone or anything unless I say so, you got it?”

The bald man shrugged disinterestedly.

“Sure, Vegeta…”

“I mean it, old man! And the same goes for you too, Raditz!”

Before the long-haired giant could give his Master a response, Vegeta took off furiously into the sky, telling himself that he’d thoroughly inspect the planet one more time before he’d finally have to relent and admit defeat.

_Damn it!_

He shouldn’t have let her go! Now he’d never see her again!

He’d never hear her giggle as she told him her funny silly stories, and he’d miss the way her cute little nose scrunched up in disapproval every time someone brought her some disheveled space pod to repair. He’d never be able to stare, almost entranced, at that waterfall of turquoise waves and those sparkly blue eyes and…

Wait.

_‘What the Hell was that?’_

In the distance, he could discern a figure dressed in some kind of orange clothing. As he got closer, he realized it was a male figure, kneeling on the ground by the edge of a lake, seemingly filling up some empty bottles with water, and…

_‘No way…’_

_It couldn’t be…?_

“You!” Vegeta yelled irately, immediately increasing his speed.

The loud sound of his voice startled the man, who turned around and, after giving the warrior a quick glance, grabbed the water bottles clumsily and started running towards a cave nearby.

The Prince shot a small ki blast by his foot in warning, making the male stop dead in his tracks. He took down dangerously close to him, approaching him slowly from behind.

“Don’t even try it…” Vegeta said menacingly in a very, _very_ low voice, making the man’s already trembling frame shiver even more.

“Turn around!” He ordered, lifting his chin knowingly at the sight of the cowardly man’s face.

Yamcha.

“I knew it…” Vegeta muttered, grabbing him by the neck of his strange orange clothing and effortlessly lifting him off the ground. His head was spinning in a million different directions. So, she _was_ on the planet! Had she lied to him when she’d told him the weakling wasn’t her mate? And why? Had she simply felt pity for him?

“I fucking knew it… Where is she?!”

“W-Where i-is wh-wh-who?” The terrified earthling asked, deep down suspecting who the warrior was talking about.

The Saiyan sneered, absolutely disgusted by the male’s spinelessness.

_This?_

_This was the man the woman had chosen over him?_

_What the fuck?_

Vegeta knew he was far from the perfect man, but he sure as Hell was a much better choice than some pathetic, wobbly idiot that looked as if he were about to piss his pants.

“The woman! Where is she?!”

“Wh-wh-what wom-woman?”

He brought the Earth male’s face even closer to him, his mouth furiously panting against the pale scarred face now covered in cold sweat.

“Don’t play stupid with me, or the Gods help me…” Vegeta took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to turn the asshole into ashes right fucking there, but he knew it wouldn’t sit well with the woman, so he made a superhuman effort to keep his rage in check.

“Bulma… Where is she?”

Yamcha frowned slightly.

How did the Saiyan know Bulma was on the planet? Had she told him about their plans? And if so, just how much did Vegeta know about the Dragon Balls and the incredible things they could accomplish?

“H-how do you…?”

“Is she your mate?” He cut him off, incapable of concealing the jealousy now _very_ present in his voice anymore.

“M-my wh-what?”

“Your mate, you fool! Your woman!”

Yamcha’s eyes widened in shock.

_So, that’s what it was? Jealousy?_

He’d already suspected Vegeta was interested in the woman. The frequency with which he visited the small repair shop was unusual, especially for someone like him, who had subordinates to order around to do menial tasks in his place. And yet, whenever he wasn’t off planet, the Saiyan would find excuse after excuse just to be able to spend time around Bulma. Sometimes even helping her as she worked, for instance, using his enormous strength to lift the heavy vehicles for her, allowing her to get underneath and finish her tasks faster.

The weaker man had undeniably felt envious of how comfortable and open the striking woman always seemed to feel around Vegeta, in spite of how many times he’d warned her about him and about the very dangerous tales Yamcha had heard about the Prince. Tales of death, planet purging and cruelty, and yet, the young woman would treat him almost as if he were a friend.

Still, Bulma had brought Yamcha with her on her trip and not him, so maybe she didn’t trust the warrior just as much as he’d previously thought. Perhaps it was a territorial thing, and if he told him Bulma was indeed his girlfriend, he’d leave them alone. After all, it was only a matter of time before he finally convinced her to be his girl. No matter how many times the woman had refused his advances, Yamcha was damn sure Bulma was just playing hard to get and someday she’d be his, especially once they wished Earth back and he had her all to himself with Vegeta out of the picture for good.

“Y-yes… She is…” He nodded, swallowing hard and awaiting, expectantly, Vegeta’s reaction.

The Saiyan dropped him at once on the ground, roaring desperately in fury.

 _How could it be?_ A mere human woman rejecting the Prince of all Saiyans for… _this_ …

_It made no damn sense!_

Vegeta needed to find her, make her look him in the eye and give him a proper explanation. He deserved, at least, that much.

 _‘I don’t doubt it…’_ She’d said in reply to his statement about him being the ideal mate for her.

“Take me to her!” He violently instructed.

“Wh-what? Ve-Vegeta… Look, sh-she doesn’t… She wants nothing to do with y-you… Th-That’s why we-we left…”

_That did it._

Without further warning, the Saiyan tackled him, aggressively jumping right on top of him and trapping Yamcha’s body between his robust knees against the ground.

_The earthling didn’t see it coming…_

Just like he didn’t expect Vegeta to punch him right on his nose.

_Twice._

“Shit! What the fuck?!”

“Be quiet, you idiot! Where is the woman?! Y-you… You are fucking lying! Did you do something to her? What have you done?!”

Vegeta wrapped his strong hands around Yamcha’s neck, ready to literally squeeze the life out of him.

He was lying.

_He had to be!_

There was no way Bulma had fled the planet in order to run away from him…

“Ve-Veggg…”

“Don’t! Don’t even! You’re not even worthy of pronouncing my name! Where’s the woman?!”

The earthling gave up at last.

His face felt hot and dizzy, and his vain attempts to try to get the warrior’s hands away from his neck were failing miserably…

“P-please… I’ll… I’ll tell you… Sh-she’s…”

Right away, Vegeta punched him again.

“Fuck! Wh-why?! I was gonna tell you where she was!!!” Yamcha asked in shock.

“That’s right, you asshole! You were going to tell me where she’s hiding! What kind of a fucking mate are you if you’re going to betray your woman just to save your sorry ass?”

The earthling squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and utterly disconcerted.

_That damned Saiyan was absolutely insane…_

“A-Alright, th-then I won’t tell y-you…”

“Oh, you will! You will tell me right fucking now if you know what’s good for you!” Vegeta threatened.

“B-but I… I thought you just s-said…”

“I was just teaching you a lesson, you fool! Where’s the woman?”

“I… I…”

“You know what? Fuck this shit! Now that I know she’s on the planet, I’ll find her myself!”

Vegeta began forming a ki ball on the palm of his hand, pointing it right at Yamcha’s face. The human, haunted with fear, simply froze in shock, incapable of moving or even breathing anymore.

“You don’t deserve her…” The Saiyan sadistically grumbled.

“Vegeta, don’t!”

A feminine voice suddenly brought him back to reality, and he promptly extinguished his ball of energy, dropping Yamcha’s body as if he were nothing. He turned around, setting his eyes on the owner of a voice he knew as well as his own by now.

“Bulma…” He whispered, his voice a mixture of relief and amazement, not only at finally being able to see her again, but at the sight of the mysterious men that kept grabbing her in an ineffective effort to restrain her as she kept walking towards his spot.

There were two of them, one of them short and bald, and the other one much older, wearing a colorful floral shirt and sunglasses.    

“Bulma! Don’t! He’s dangerous!” The younger man warned, still trying to stop her by clutching her arm, while the old guy had tripped and fallen, and was now lying on the grass, lecherously looking down the woman’s skirt.

“I said, let go of me! Goddammit!”

“Bulma! You don’t know…!”

“I know him, Krillin! And now, let go of me!” Bulma commanded furiously, finally managing to get the younger man’s hands off her. “And you! Stop that shit right now!” She yelled at the old man on the ground, whose nose had mysteriously started to bleed. When the man wouldn’t move, she kicked him out of her way, sending him flying several meters away.

Finally free of what the warrior thought the oddest group of freaks he’d ever seen, she proceeded to walk towards him unhurriedly but confidently, finally standing right in front of him. She stared at Vegeta in awe, her shimmery eyes inspecting him curiously as if she couldn’t truly believe he was there with her.

“You’re… You’re here…” She finally said in a low, breathy voice.

The Prince simply nodded, feeling the bundle of nerves he always felt right in his stomach, whenever he was in her presence, coming back to him in full force.  

Bulma allowed herself a tiny smile full of wonder.

“You came because of me?” She asked shyly, a shiver of hope hiding behind her girly voice.

“No,” he quickly replied.

Her pretty face immediately fell into an unmistakable sad frown.

“Oh…” She muttered in disappointment.

_‘Fuck!’_

_Why had he even said that?_

_‘Of course, he’d come for her!’_

_Damn him and his Saiyan pride!_

“Bulma, I…” The Saiyan started to say, trying to find the right way to express himself, but the woman cut him off.

“Wanna go talk inside our house?”

He frowned at that question. How had the woman built a house on a planet she’d just arrived in?

“Your what?”

She giggled, finding his confusion humorous. He looked so damn cute when he didn’t know what was going on…

“My house. It’s right there, inside that cave.” Bulma indicated, pointing to one of the many dark caves on the island they were standing on. Planet Namek seemed to be full of them.

“Are you crazy?!” Yamcha yelled. He was still on the ground, sitting with difficulty on the grass with the help of Krillin and pitifully covering his bleeding nose. “Bulma! The guy just punched me on the nose! THREE TIMES!”

Bulma gave him a quick glance, apparently not bothered at all by his injuries. The truth of the matter was, she was already sick of him and his antics. Throughout their entire trip, he’d been nothing but a bothersome sickly-sweet idiot that kept hitting on her, even though she’d already made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, at least, not romantically. But the guy just couldn’t seem to take a hint, so she sighed tiredly, crossing her arms and squinting suspiciously at him.

“What did you do to him?”

“What?! What do you mean?! Bulma, the guy is trouble! He…!”

“He told me he was your mate,” Vegeta informed her calmly, inwardly enjoying the complete disinterest the woman was showing in the scarred-faced idiot.

_He knew it…_

_The Earth woman was too good for a pathetic weakling like Yamcha…_

“He, what???!!!” She screamed furiously.

“B-Bulma, I… I was just trying to…”

“And he said you’d traveled to planet Namek in order to escape from me,” he declared triumphantly, knowing by now the woman would not be happy with the asshole.

_Oh, she wasn’t._

“WHAT?!”

In the blink of an eye she knelt down and aggressively punched Yamcha on the shoulder.

“Ow! And what was that for?!” Yamcha asked miserably.

_This was not his lucky day…_

“That’s for fucking lying about us, you idiot!” She punched him again.

“What the Hell?!”

“And THAT’s for lying again! How could you say something like that when you guys were the ones who convinced me not to ask him to come?!”

“You, what?” Vegeta asked in surprise and disbelief.

Bulma nodded demurely, suddenly embarrassed about having revealed such a thing.

_Would he mock her?_

She knew he’d basically proposed to her just mere days ago but, would he still want her after having been rejected so brazenly? If there was one thing she’d learned about Saiyans was that pride was one of their most prized possessions.

“I did…” She whispered, boldly stretching her arm and offering Vegeta her hand.

He took it without hesitation, making Bulma’s heart flutter. She bravely intertwined her delicate fingers with his, affectionately squeezing his strong hand and giving him a timid smile.

“Come with me,” she said, her shy smile widening when the warrior automatically followed her and gently clasped her hand back without a second thought.

They both walked into the cave, under the astounded watchful eyes of all her friends, who didn’t seem to comprehend how it was possible for a powerless woman like Bulma to be so apparently carefree and trusting around the frightening Saiyan Prince.

When they reached the door of the small Capsule Corp. house Bulma had settled inside the dark rock shelter, Vegeta inspected it with inquisitorial eyes.

“Bulma, how…?”

“It’s a capsule house,” she proudly explained. “Remember how I told you my father was a scientist? Our company created all sorts of products that we encapsulated. You see that button by the door?” Bulma asked pointing at it. “If you press it, the whole house will turn into a capsule so small it’ll fit in the palm of my hand.”

Vegeta blinked in surprise a few times. The woman’s claims seemed quite surreal to him and yet, he believed her. He’d gotten to know her and her many talents during the few months they’d known each other, and it had become quite evident to him that her brains were just as brilliant as her beauty.

“Let’s get inside; it’s cold in here…” Bulma continued, opening the door and guiding him through the small home, never letting go of his gloved hand until they reached her bedroom. When they did, she got in, finally releasing him, much to Vegeta’s disenchantment, and she closed the door behind them.

“Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled self-consciously.

Being alone with him inside her room was suddenly making her feel bashfully vulnerable. She sat awkwardly on her unmade bed and pointed towards a small chair in front of her.

“Please, take a sit.” 

The Saiyan silently followed her instructions, uncomfortably sitting on the tiny chair as he warily inspected his surroundings. Just as he’d suspected, based on seeing Bulma work on the small repair shop, the woman was a mess. The entire room was cluttered, full of odd books, magazines and pieces of paper, scattered around with other equally unusual items the Prince assumed were _‘feminine objects’_. As a man who had spent his entire life surrounded by other males, the whole situation seemed almost dreamlike to him: one moment he’d been alone, miserable and ready to give up on the idea of ever seeing Bulma again, and the next, he was sitting in a closed space with her, in her private surroundings no less, encompassed by her most intimate belongings and, worst of all, almost dazed by the sweet aroma invading his senses.

_Her scent…_

It was getting harder and harder for him to control his most primal urges, so he chose to focus on Bulma’s actions instead, who was now fidgeting apprehensively with her dress, still sited on top of the messy bundle of girly pink bedsheets.

“So… What’s your wish?” She finally asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your wish… You guys are the ones who have most of the Dragon Balls, right?”

“Bulma, how do you…? H-How do you know that?” Vegeta asked perplexedly.

Bulma chuckled sadly. On one side, she was glad to finally find out the reason behind the Saiyan’s presence on Namek but, on the other, she couldn’t help but feel another tinge of disappointment at Vegeta confirming, once again, that she wasn’t the reason behind his visit. Her carefully premeditated plan was quickly vanishing, and it was pretty obvious the Prince had already forgotten about his intentions of dating her.

“Well, if you’re not here because of me, then I assume it’s because of the Dragon Balls. This is just a small planet without much else to offer.”

“I see,” Vegeta replied cautiously.

Was it his imagination or had the woman’s stunning face shown a look of displeasure when he’d lied to her by telling her she wasn’t the real motive behind his trip to Namek?

_Did that mean he still had a chance with her?_

_Perhaps she regretted having rejected him in the past…_

“So, what’s your wish?” Bulma asked again.

“Woman, I’m sorry but, I haven’t got the faintest idea of what you’re talking about. We’re here on a mission; we’re taking the Dragon Balls to Frieza.”

The earthling’s eyes widened in shock, and she gasped softly, absolutely horrified by the man’s words.

_How could Vegeta do such a thing?_

“You can’t be serious! Oh, Gods, Vegeta! You can’t do that!”

Vegeta frowned in confusion, still dumbfounded and not having a clue about what the woman’s problem with his assignment was.

“Why not?”  

“What do you mean _‘why not’_? Do you have any idea what Frieza could do with that kind of power?!”

_Okay._

Now he was really starting to lose his patience. It hadn’t even really crossed his mind what the damn Dragon Balls were for and, if he was totally honest with himself, he didn’t give a crap about this mission either. The only reason he’d chosen to accept it was because Nappa had told him the planet was the same place Bulma was supposedly about to travel to. In fact, the night he’d drunkenly attempted to drown his sorrow in alcohol, he’d been dangerously close to sending everything to Hell and asking Frieza to kiss his ass and find some other idiot to do his dirty work for him, even if that meant the lizard would finally kill him.

_After all, what was the point of living?_

He had no home, no family, and no real friends besides Nappa and Raditz. And his ascension didn’t seem to arrive, regardless of how hard he trained and worked towards it. He’d been envisioning a pretty dark future for himself, beginning to lose hope, until he met Bulma.

She was the purest, most beautiful thing he’d ever known, and he’d come to believe that maybe, just maybe, if she accepted him as his mate, he’d finally get to experience a taste of happiness for once in his life.

Of course, the woman had declined his proposal. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

_When had life actually given him a break? Did he even deserve it? And, with a woman like Bulma?_

She was, after all, one of the few survivors of her race, and her planet had been purged and destroyed, which was precisely what he did for a living. The fact that it had been the Ginyu Force and not him, the ones who had done the job, was purely coincidental.

Why would a delicate, honorably good creature such as Bulma agree to have someone like him as a life companion?

Eventually, her soft, understanding voice broke his pessimistic train of thought…

“You don’t actually know what they do, do you?”

Vegeta shook his head, relieved that the woman had finally understood his predicament.

Bulma sighed wearily. “I see… Alright, I’ll tell you…”

_And she did._

_She told him everything._

She told him about her discovery of the mythical Dragon Balls back in her home planet when she was a young teenage girl. About how she’d built a radar capable of finding the mysterious objects, which, by the way, were way smaller than the ones from Namek. It was during her journeys that she’d met Goku, a child Vegeta had deduced was, in fact, none other than Bardock’s son, Kakarot. Bulma had already alluded to him in the past, during one of their many conversations in her old repair shop, when she’d noticed his tail one day and she’d mentioned she’d once met a little boy who had a tail and transformed into a horrifying, ridiculously strong giant ape during nights with a full moon. Based on the description of the kid and the location of her now gone planet, Vegeta had reached the conclusion that the boy was, indeed, Raditz’s brother.  

Bulma explained how she and her friends had finally found the Dragon Balls, all seven of them, and the legend had turned out to be real: the Dragon could make their wishes come true. The Dragon from Earth could only grant one wish, the one from Namek, three wishes.

In her small shop, she’d met an enigmatic green man that reminded her a lot of one of Goku’s old enemies, a strong warrior named Piccolo that had once threatened the Earth but who’d ended up being defeated in battle by the young, third-class Saiyan. The mysterious man had told her a little bit about himself and about his race, confirming her old suspicions that there was another planet, the one Namekians originated from, that also possessed Dragon Balls, and from that very day, three months ago now, she’d started saving as many credits as she could to buy an old, second-hand ship, which she’d been secretly repairing and upgrading during her spare time in order to escape the small planet she’d been living in, travel to Namek and bring her home planet and its inhabitants back to life.

The story was absolutely incredible, and yet, if someone like Frieza was so damn interested in those secretive Dragon Balls, perhaps there was some truth to it.

“So, you see now? We can’t let Frieza get hold of them, Vegeta! Only the Gods know what kind of wishes that bastard would ask for!” Bulma warned him, still perturbed, as soon as she finished her tale.

Vegeta nodded in agreement, not even wanting to imagine what Frieza was planning to achieve by getting the Dragon Balls under his control. If he knew his Master well, and sadly he did, it’d probably be something sinister and insane that would allow him to stay alive and rule forever, such as immortality. Vegeta had already heard stories, through the years, of the despicable lizard employing and enslaving all sorts of scientists in his endless quest for power and eternal youth. He had to admit that, at one point, immortality had seemed extremely tempting to him, if only because it would keep him alive until he was strong enough to bring the filthy Overlord to his knees, right before he ended his life. However, if he pondered such a wish with a cold, analytical mind, he knew that desire would end up being a curse more than a privilege, so he truly didn’t think he’d ever actually pursue such a mindless goal.

“So…” He finally replied, his speech slow while he attempted to put all the pieces together. “One wish to bring your planet back into existence, one wish to resurrect all its inhabitants and… I presume, one last wish to take you and your friends back to Earth?”

That last sentence automatically filled him with despair. The thought of the woman he was in love with vanishing from his life forever was absolutely devastating, and yet, if going back to her home planet would bring her more joy than sharing her life with him, he was prepared to let her go.

“That was supposed to be the plan, but… But then it changed…” Bulma explained reservedly.

_This was it._

She was about to reveal her secret wish to the man sitting right in front of him. Bulma knew that if Vegeta’s feelings towards her had changed, she was about to make a fool of herself. Yet again, hadn’t the Saiyan opened his heart to her during his proposal? It couldn’t have been easy for someone like Vegeta, a warrior that very possibly felt uncomfortable expressing his emotions, to declare his feelings for her, and it must have been even more humiliating for him to deal with her rejection.

_What had she even been thinking?_

_She wanted this man…_

And she wanted him all to herself, the thought of him moving on and ultimately spending his life with another female made her mad with jealousy.

He deserved to be treated with the same kind of honesty he’d offered her in the past, so Bulma took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to show her vulnerability.

“I… I don’t understand, Bulma. What changed when?”

“It all changed…” She sighed timidly, her eyes fixated on the lavender carpet on the floor. “It all changed the moment you walked out of my shop, the last time I saw you…”

Vegeta remained silent, feeling his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat.

_Was she talking about what he thought she was talking about?_

He didn’t dare open his big mouth and get into trouble if it turned out she was actually referring to something else entirely, so he waited quietly but impatiently for her to carry on with her explanation.

Bulma looked at him, anxiously biting on her thumbnail before finally revealing her secret plans to him.

“One… One wish to bring Earth back into existence, one wish to resurrect all its inhabitants and… Well… I was actually going to do as you just said, and take my friends and I back to Earth but… But, by my calculations, the improvements I made on our ship and the amount of fuel we’ve bought would take us comfortably back to our home planet so… So, there was no need to waste a wish on that if… You know… If I wanted something else…”

Vegeta held his breath momentarily, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.

“What…? What did you want, Bulma?” He asked, incapable of waiting anymore for the woman’s reply.

“I… I just thought… Well…” She raised her gaze again, her soft cheeks flushed in mortification.

_The Saiyan thought she’d never looked lovelier than in that very moment…_

“Yes?” Vegeta said, gently coaching her into revealing her true intentions.

“I was going to ask the Dragon to bring you to Earth with us… Well… With me…”

Bulma kept staring at him, waiting for some kind of a reaction, but, much to her disappointment, Vegeta’s face remained immobile, void of any expression that could tell her whether he still wanted her back or whether she’d just made a huge fool of herself. And suddenly, it hit her that perhaps he’d misunderstood a small aspect of her hypothetical wish.

“Oh! I wouldn’t have done it without your consent!” She quickly clarified, waving her tiny, nervous hands defensively in front of her. “The… The Dragon can’t actually bring someone to another place without asking them first! So, you know… You would have had a choice…”

“Would you have wanted me to say yes?”

The woman assented meekly.

“More than anything…” She quietly whispered, her fingers fidgeting again with her flowy blue dress, never having felt more exposed and raw in her entire life.

Vegeta shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut in puzzlement before setting them again on her.

“Bulma, I don’t… Forgive me but, I just… I don’t understand. You… You rejected me. Why…?”

“I know I did and I… I felt so terrible, Vegeta!” She declared, now raising her voice passionately. “I was… I guess I was scared, you know?”

“Scared?” His heart sank. “Scared of me?”

“Oh, no! Not of you! Never of you!”

_She’d never been afraid of him?_

_That was a new one…_

“I guess…” Bulma kept saying, “I guess I just felt overwhelmed, you know? We were supposed to escape that same night, and… You… Your proposal… From what I know from you and from your, from your words… You weren’t really, um… It was a serious thing, right?”

“Serious? Of course, it was serious! Woman, what…?”

“No, I mean that… I assumed you weren’t just asking about one date. It was a real commitment, not just sex or something like that, right?”

“Of course not!” Vegeta yelled, offended by the woman’s implications. “Is that what you thought I wanted from you?”

“N-no, that’s what I mean… You, you were asking for something real, something serious, the same night we were supposed to leave and, then… And then, there were the Dragon Balls… The night we escaped I even asked my friends if I could bring you with us, you know?”

“You did?” The warrior asked with a mixture of shock and hope within his voice.

“I did.” She confirmed. “But they… They said you weren’t trustworthy, and that you’d just steal the Dragon Balls from us and…” Bulma stopped, shaking her head at the memory. “I shouldn’t have listened to them…” She whispered, almost as if talking to herself. Then she observed him carefully, with those deep blue eyes of hers, and she declared firmly. “They were wrong.”

Vegeta thought for a moment.

_Had the woman’s friends been wrong or were their fears founded?_

_They probably were…_

In the back of his mind, he knew that his old self, the ruthless warrior solely concerned about his own survival, whatever the cost, would have undoubtedly jumped at the chance of joining the group of trusting weaklings and betray them in the end, when they’d reach their destination.

_But now…_

_Well, now he wasn’t so sure anymore…_

The woman had changed something in him, deeply and fundamentally. And no, he would never dare to call himself good, the Gods knew there was still a special place in Hell reserved just for him because of his past evil deeds but, at the same time, something about Bulma and her generous, vivacious heart, made him want to do better, to be better.

_A better man, just for her…_

“They were wrong, woman,” he finally answered. “I would have never, ever betrayed you if you had asked me to join you and your comrades.”

Vegeta realized at once he must have said the right thing, because the most enticing, radiant smile drew itself on Bulma’s lips.

“I knew it,” she declared triumphantly. “I knew you’d never hurt me or my friends. They… They told me you were just like Frieza, but I knew… I just knew, deep in my heart, that you’re nothing like him.”

The Saiyan inhaled sharply, deeply offended by that comparison and yet, again, he knew his friend’s assumptions weren’t too far from the truth. He had, after all, done terrible things throughout his life.

“Bulma, I am not like Frieza, but… You must know, my past… My past is not an easy one. I’ve…”

“I know,” she simply replied.

“You do?”

“Yeah… Some people on the planet said things about you, and, you know… Yamcha did as well. He was always trying to warn me about you, trying to make me stop talking to you so much, but… I knew it was because of Frieza, you’re not free to do what you want, are you?”

Vegeta felt his fists automatically clench, his body trembling in rage and shame…

Despite his _‘Prince of All Saiyans’_ bravado, he knew he was basically a slave. Sure, he was sometimes generously rewarded for his _‘services’_ , but even so, he was still a man obligated to serve a Master he despised.

“No, woman…” He confirmed, a deep, ragged breath abandoning his lungs. “I am not free to do as I wish.”

“I see… So… If you, if you could escape from Frieza, if you could…”

“I will never escape from Frieza, Bulma! I’d rather die than go into hiding from that filthy bastard! Besides,” he continued, eyeing her warily. “Do you really think someone, anyone, could hide from Frieza? Sooner or later, he’d find them, and then he’d…”

“I know that, Vegeta! But I don’t mean hiding from him indefinitely! It would be more like… Like buying time. Time until you were ready… You do want to fight him, don’t you?”

The Prince immediately assented.

“And… And if you won, you’d never be like him, would you Vegeta?”

“Never,” he promised.

He was telling the truth.

His only goal in life was putting an end to that miserable, filthy creature, but his old dreams of universal domination no longer appealed to him. If only he had this woman, and he could go live somewhere in peace with her, after getting rid of Frieza, of course, he knew he’d have everything he’d ever need. After all, he’d gone through enough mayhem and destruction to last an entire lifetime.

“Promise?” She asked again, an honest, hopeful smile on her face.

“On my life, Bulma,” Vegeta declared solemnly.

The earthling’s smile widened, brightly illuminating her marvelous features, and she speedily stood from the bed, giving him a strange, mischievous look before turning around and walking towards a small desk placed in the corner. She grabbed some large wrinkly documents and joined him once more, kneeling on the carpet and proceeding to talk excitedly about her plans.

“So, remember when you told me about your planet? That day, back in the shop?”

He remembered. How could he forget? It was the only time anyone had ever asked him about Planet Vegeta out of innocent, harmless curiosity.

“I do.”

“Yeah… So, anyway… You were telling me about how the gravity was higher and about how hard it was for you to get stronger these days and, um… About how, if you… If you could find a way to challenge yourself, you’d become stronger and you’d, uh, what was it called?”

“I would ascend and become a…”

“A Super Saiyan, right?”

Vegeta nodded, stunned at the discovery of the woman recalling one of their many conversations in such great detail. He’d truly believed she’d only ever asked him about his past out of politeness, perhaps even because of boredom, but apparently, she’d really been listening to his stories and concerns.

“That is correct.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought… So…” She carried on, her enthusiasm growing as much as his curiosity. Her energy and positivity were contagious, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or if it could get him in trouble really fast.

“So… I couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since…”

“You couldn’t?” He asked, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Nope. You see this?” She enquired, unfolding the white and blue documents right in front of his face. They looked like blueprints, blueprints written in letters and numbers he’d never be able to decipher, not in a million years.

“They were my dad’s…” Bulma whispered, a tinge of sadness hidden behind her chattiness. “They were plans we designed for a special project for one of our planet’s military…”

“The two of you?”

“Yup!” She proudly declared.

_He knew it…_

_The woman was more than just a mere mechanic._

“What…? What is it about?” The Saiyan asked, incapable of hiding his inquisitiveness.

“They’re plans for a Gravity Room! And I just solved the final equations! You know what that means?”

He blinked a few times, shaking his head.

“It means I’m ready to build it! It’d be perfect for you! Think about it!”

“Bulma, I don’t… What…? What does it do?”

“It’s a Gravity Room! I just told you, silly! It would be a closed space where you could increase the gravitational forces by up to 400 times Earth’s gravity. Maybe even more once we perfect the system!”

Vegeta’s mouth opened, but no coherent sounds came out of it.

_Was such a thing even possible?_

“So, you’d… You’d build this on Earth?”

“Yeah! What do you think?”

“Well, it’s… It’s a generous offer… Perhaps too generous…” He replied, uncomfortably scratching the back of his head, not quite knowing why a woman that had rejected him just a few days earlier was willing to help him this way.

“What do you mean?” Bulma protested in discontent. She’d certainly expected him to be way more excited than this.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… Why would you do something like that and help me in such a way?”

“Because that’s what mates do.” She sincerely replied. “Wasn’t that what you said to me?”

_Mates._

_Bulma had actually used the word ‘mates’._

_‘What the Hell was going on here?’_

“What…? What I said about what?” The Saiyan cautiously asked, still afraid of getting his hopes up. His already wounded pride wouldn’t be able to handle any more rejection. Not from this woman.

She gently put aside her blueprints, still sited on the floor, and she raised her head, finally choosing to put all her cards on the table.

_After all, what else had she got to lose?_

“You told me you’d fight all my battles with me, by my side.”

“I did…” He muttered, feigning a confidence he didn’t have.

“Then I’d do the same for you… That’s what mates do, right? I know… I know I’m not some strong Saiyan warrior, but… But I have other strengths Vegeta! And if you… If you and I…”

“Bulma, wait, what…? Are you…? Are you trying to imply that you are agreeing to be my mate?”

Bulma nodded in assent, thus putting all his doubts to rest.

_She’d said yes…_

_She was saying yes to him!_

“Bulma,” he whispered softly. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do, Vegeta…”

“What…? What made you change your mind?”

“I haven’t, actually… I always wanted to say yes, Vegeta…”

She finally found the courage to get closer to him, gently caressing one of his cheeks, his skin both burning up and unexpectedly soft at the same time. “I wanted to say yes so badly… I just told you, I got scared and… But I do want you, Vegeta, and I’ll help you. We’ll fight Frieza together, as a couple! What do you say?”

_What did he say?_

Every fiber of his being was internally screaming _‘yes!’_ but, for her own protection, he still felt it was his duty to warn her about the danger she was about to put herself in.

“Bulma… I am Saiyan. If I take you, I take you for life, do you understand?” He asked gravely.

“I know...”

She didn’t care. Bulma knew there was no way she’d ever meet a man more perfect and suited for her than the one sitting right in front of her.

“And if you are mine, that means you will also be a target for Frieza. And rest assured, woman, he will find us eventually.”

“I know that, Vegeta! But it’ll be months, possibly even longer before he does. He… He destroyed my planet and all the other ones around it, right?”

“As far as I know, yes, he did, Bulma.”  

“So, he won’t even start looking in our side of the Universe for a long time and, when he finally finds us, we’ll be ready for him!”

Vegeta humbly placed his hand on top of hers, stubbornly keeping her touch close to his skin. Never had he been touched in such a gentle, kind manner, and for the first time, he understood all those tales of men that ended up committing insane acts in the name of the women they loved.

_Only this time… This time things could, in fact, work out…_

Bulma’s plan made sense. He knew the Legend of the Super Saiyan was getting closer and closer, so much that at times he could even taste it. All he needed was a little push, an extra challenge, and this incredible woman was willing to help him with his training and to share her life with him.

_This time, he wouldn’t fight alone…_

And, when the time came to finally face his old Master, not only he’d be ready, but he’d also have something else to fight for other than his pride and the old ghosts from the past that had constantly tortured and haunted him ever since he could recall.

_Next time, he’d have someone to fight for, someone to protect…_

Wasn’t the risk worth it?

Even if he died, would he ever find a more honorable cause to give his life for?

_But he wouldn’t die, not with Bulma as a mate, by his side…_

Vegeta took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. The excitement of knowing a new chapter in his life that was about to begin. He let go of her hand, slowly removing his gloves and standing from his chair. He then looked down at Bulma, who was now expectantly gawking at him, waiting for his answer.

And she got one when Vegeta eventually smiled at her, a real, honest to Gods smile, so unlike his usual playful smirks, which were equally devastating to her. He sat on her still unmade bed and he offered her his rough, ungloved hand, which she took without hesitation, graciously getting up and standing impatiently in front of him.

“Tell me about your planet, Bulma…”

She gave him another one of those dazzling smiles as she shamelessly sat on his lap, landing her pert little bottom on top of one of his strong thighs and wrapping her slender arms around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world to her. As if they were already lovers and they’d shared such an intimate gesture many times in the past.

_And then she talked…_

She told him about her planet: Earth. About her mother and how much she adored tending to her garden and watch over their wide variety of house pets; about her dad, his inventions, his big mustache and his black little cat. _‘Did he know what a cat was?’_ He didn’t. _‘Oh! It was the cutest thing ever!’_ And strawberries! _‘He had to taste strawberries!’_ They were juicy, sweet and ripe. The Prince inadvertently run his tongue across his suddenly very thirsty lips. And she lived in a huge house with a massive swimming pool. _‘Did he know how to swim?’_ He did. _‘Oh, then they had to visit her family’s own private island!’_ It was so secluded they could indulge in some skinny dipping! _‘Did he know what skinny dipping was?’_ He had no idea. She giggled playfully, whispering the meaning of the very naughty expression in his ear. _‘Sweet merciful Gods! Was that true?’_

Bulma kept chatting, inundating his now very dizzy mind with hopeful promises of happiness and pleasurable experiences.

Earth was beautiful, she said. And even though it had a wide variety of different climates, the weather was mostly warm where she lived. Warm. And blue. Oh yes, the sky and the water were turquoise blue, just like her hair and her eyes.

_‘He liked that color very much…’_

And then there was even more delicious food. And books. And music. And trips. And movies. And shopping. _‘They had to go shopping!’_ Even though men didn’t usually like that a lot, she said.

_‘And he had no idea what any of those things were, but he’d happily indulge her anyway…’_

Every now and then, she’d get even closer to him, close enough for him to subtly nuzzle her rosy cheek, and she giggled again, illuminating the whole damn room.

_‘How could she even do that?’_

And she’d play with her glossy hair, twirling it distractedly between her long, delicate fingers while she told him all he needed to know about her home planet. It had constantly amazed him how someone like Bulma, a woman who enjoyed doing manual labor, could always possess such silky hands.

His eyes would always end up hungrily gazing at her fully exposed creamy neck, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her warm, ivory skin and mark her for all to see. Making her his for all eternity. He wondered what the woman would think of that particular custom from his race, would she find it barbarian? If she did, he wouldn’t do it, but something told him the impetuous woman would let him get a little taste of that delicious part of her anatomy.

By the time she was done with her stories, he was nowhere near closer to understanding a single thing about her world, but he’d already decided it didn’t matter anyway. After all, he had no home himself, no roots to speak of, so by joining her, he was sacrificing nothing but his own loneliness.

“So…” Bulma asked in a low voice, nervously biting her lip. “What do you say? Are you coming with me?”

Vegeta grunted affirmatively, nuzzling her cheek possessively one last time.

_He would._

_He’d follow this extraordinary creature to the end of the world and back._

“Really?” She asked, her eyes brightening with joy. “Oh, Vegeta! You’re gonna love it! You’ll see!”

Bulma hugged him even tighter, pressing her forehead against his, staring into his enigmatic dark eyes. He really was the most attractive man she’d ever met, and not just physically, there was something else about him, a mystery that kept begging to be unraveled, and she’d spend the rest of her life trying to figure it out.

“I’m excited…” She whispered gleefully. “Are you?”

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by her near presence, her exotic scent pervading his senses as he found himself unable to take his eyes off the luscious lip she was nibbling again.

“I am…” He muttered, closing the distance between them and finally locking his lips with hers, making the woman inhale sharply by the unexpected move. However, she soon allowed herself to relax in his embrace, kissing him back slowly, languidly, simply savoring the moment.

_He was real, he was here, with her, and now he was her mate._

_It was hard to believe…_

There was something sweet, almost childlike about his kiss, and she guessed pretty soon that he probably hadn’t kissed a lot of women, the same way that she hadn’t really dated more than a couple of men before her planet had been destroyed and she’d ended up alone.

In many ways, they were the same. They’d both experienced the grief of loss, but in her case, she’d only endured it for over a period of a few months, while he’d been alone throughout most of his entire life. Now, she was going to show him what having a home, a family and a partner felt like.

They lazily kissed for a few more minutes, basking in each other’s presence. Melding their bodies together, and all Vegeta could think of was how perfect she felt against him, it was as if she’d been specifically designed just for him.

Just as he was about to boldly deepen their kiss a single knock on the door awoke them both from their reveries.

“Bulma!” A voice yelled from behind the door, not even waiting for her to reply before he opened the door. “I’m sorry to bother you guys, but we have a couple of visitors and they look… Wow!”

Krillin’s speech was immediately cut off by the sight of his friend sitting on the lap of the very frightening and _very_ dangerous Saiyan Prince.

“Uh… Um… I’m s-sorry, b-but…”

“They must be your friends, right Vegeta?” Bulma asked sweetly, apparently unperturbed about having just been caught in such a compromising position.

The Prince grunted in assent, a fierce scowl now invading his regal face in a strange mixture of embarrassment and fury at the bald man’s interruption. However, his hands were still greedily clutching Bulma’s hips, obstinately refusing to let his woman go.   

“You think they’ll wanna come with us?” She enquired again.

_‘Shit!’_

He’d been so entranced by his obsession with Bulma that he hadn’t even stopped to consider what Nappa and Raditz would want to do next.  

Vegeta sighed, reluctantly releasing her petite form.

“I guess I should have a talk with them,” he finally replied, helping the woman stand up and doing the same himself. “Would it be a problem if they wanted to join us?”

“Of course not! They’re your friends, so they’ll always be welcome in our home!” She replied in all honesty. “Besides, a bunch of strong Saiyan guys protecting the Earth can only be a good thing, right?”

The Prince nodded once more in agreement. Even though he was, by far, the strongest of his gang, having his comrades fighting by his side, defending his woman’s planet, would unquestionably be a positive thing. And he’d make damn sure those two idiots wouldn’t misbehave when they got to Earth.

Bulma grinned with enthusiasm. “Great! See, Krillin?” She declared cheerfully. “Vegeta will take care of everything, don’t worry about it…”

The bald monk couldn’t believe his ears. Was Bulma actually going to bring those brutes back to their home planet with them? And, why the kiss? Had she secretly been dating Vegeta all this time and she hadn’t told them? Even though he had a million and one questions on his mind, he really didn’t dare to ask any of them, afraid he’d make Vegeta snap and turn against him. Besides, Bulma appeared to be so relaxed, so comfortable in his presence that he hoped, and prayed, she’d keep the Saiyan under control.

“Uh, um… Sure… G-Great… I’ll leave you guys alone then… I’ll wait outside…” He stuttered, leaving the small bedroom as fast as he could.

“I’ll go outside to deal with my comrades, Bulma,” Vegeta declared, making a move to follow Krillin, but the woman’s voice stopped him all of a sudden.

“Oh! Vegeta, wait! I almost forgot…” She said, unzipping one of the small pockets of her blue dress and grabbing the small object it contained: the black card the warrior had given her the last time they’d seen each other.

“I believe this is yours,” she whispered, offering him the valuable item, which Vegeta straightaway refused to take back, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“Keep it, Bulma. Now it belongs to you.”

“B-But, Vegeta… Where I’m going to, I won’t need it…”

“Neither will I,” he shrugged.

Bulma sighed, her hands trembling slightly as she recalled the overwhelming emotions she’d felt when she’d discovered Vegeta had presented her with a small fortune.

“But it’s so valuable, Vegeta…” She whined. “What if you ever have to go on a space trip again?”

“Then I’ll ask for it. In the meantime, I’m entrusting you with it, woman.”

She took one last look at the card, finally putting it back in her pocket, making sure she closed the small zipper.

“Fair enough…” Bulma concluded, now walking in his direction. She placed her hand on his shoulder, slowly running it across his tanned skin until she gently scratched the back of his neck affectively, making Vegeta immediately shiver in desire. “I’ll keep it safe for you,” she promised confidently, wrapping her other arm around his neck.

“Vegeta…” She said in a small voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it, woman?” He asked back, finding it increasingly hard to concentrate with Bulma lazily running her fingers through his wild mane.

“Why…? Why did you give me such a large amount of credits?”

The Prince frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean… I didn’t even know you were such a wealthy man…”

“I’m not anymore. I gave you everything I possessed. Everything I’ve earned through my years under Frieza’s service.”

Bulma’s blue eyes widened in surprise.

“What? Oh, Gods, Vegeta! Why…? Why did you do such a thing?”

“Because I knew you were lying, Bulma,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I was pretty sure your boss hadn’t granted you permission to leave the planet. Was I wrong?”

_‘Clever Saiyan…’_

“N-No… You’re right, he didn’t. But then… If… If you knew I’d probably never come back, why would you…?”

“It’s very simple, woman,” Vegeta said, swiftly cutting her off. “Wealth is power, and when I offered you the chance of being my mate, I promised to protect and cherish you… And…”

He paused, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about having to talk about his emotions.

Vegeta was a warrior, and it just wasn’t in his blood to openly discuss such matters, not even with the woman who’d just agreed to become his mate.

“And?” She asked sweetly, encouraging him to finish his thoughts.

“And…” He exhaled heavily. “Well… I realized that, even if you rejected my proposal, I still wished all of those things for you. So, I… I felt that giving you my wealth was in a way like offering you a part of my power, so that you’d be safe, free and protected.”

_‘Gods…’_

If she hadn’t already loved this man, she would have fallen for him right after hearing those words.

_‘He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him…’_

She hugged him tighter, pressing her body against him and kissing him softly on the lips one more time, lovingly holding his smooth face between her hands and looking at him as if he were the best man in the world. The adoration in her shimmery eyes was both exciting and deeply disturbing.

_Nobody had ever looked at him that way…_

“Thank you,” Bulma mumbled gratefully against his lips.

He nodded, not quite understanding how his woman could be so moved by his actions. After all, he’d only done what he’d thought was the honorable thing to do.

“Do not thank me, Bulma,” he answered, carefully removing her hands from his face. If she kept touching him and looking at him like that, he’d end up having his way with her right then and there, and he couldn’t allow himself to do that. A woman like Bulma deserved more than a quick fuck inside a cave in the middle of space. When he finally mated with her, he wanted to do things right, savoring and relishing every single inch of that perfect body.

“I must talk to my comrades before they lose their patience and do something stupid.”

“Oh… Right! Of course!” Bulma quickly replied, blushing like a school girl about her previous brazen behavior. Her flushed skin wasn’t lost on the warrior, who proceeded to walk out of the small room, not before turning around first, flashing her one of those maliciously cheeky smirks.

“All in good time, little woman,” he said. “All in good time…”

Bulma stood on wobbly legs, alone inside her bedroom for a minute.

_‘That cocky bastard…’_

If he could make her feel like that with just the mere promise of his touch in the future, what would happen when they actually consummated their relationship?

She swallowed hard in anticipation, her heartrate sky rocketing inside her chest. Her mind wandered briefly, trying to imagine what being with Vegeta would be like, not just intimately but in general, living together and sharing their lives as a couple.

She smiled softly, shaking her head and mentally preparing herself to leave the tiny house and join the rest of her friends. There was no point in being nervous or worried about the future. It was time to be brave, get outside, make those wishes and go back home.

Bulma recognized that as long as Frieza lived they wouldn’t be completely safe, but she also knew that both Vegeta and she were strong-willed, intelligent and tough people. Neither of them was afraid of working hard if that meant achieving their goals, and now, they were together, which meant they’d be there for each other when things got hard.

_‘It was time for a new beginning…’_

By the time Bulma left the cave, Vegeta was already having a private discussion with the other two Saiyan warriors, a few meters away from her small group of friends, who were sitting on a rock, absolutely flabbergasted as to what was going on exactly. Yamcha’s face was not only astonished, but also filled with jealousy and anger. Someone must have brought him an icepack from inside the house, and he kept carefully pressing it against his nose, which had already stopped bleeding but was now uncomfortably swollen.

Bulma stood cross-armed by the rest of the earthlings’ side, waiting patiently for Vegeta to inform Nappa and Raditz of the new situation. Every now and then, the two Saiyans would give her a surreptitious glance, raising their eyebrows in shock and interest, but the woman could tell they didn’t look angry or upset, which she took as a positive sign.

“So… Earth, uh?” Nappa finally asked as soon as Vegeta finished telling the story.

“I’m in!” Raditz exclaimed, looking rather excited about these new developments. “I mean… It seems like a sweet deal. A nice planet, no Frieza for a while and training equipment…” He gave Bulma another look, elbowing the Prince playfully. “Man… She’s really hot! I can see why you like her…”        

“If you know what’s good for you, you will never, _ever_ , refer to my mate in those terms again,” Vegeta threatened in a low, menacing voice. “This is not one of your space whores, Raditz. This woman is to be treated with the utmost respect, is that understood?”

The long-haired man waved his hands in front of him, trying to make some peace with his Prince.

“O-of course, Vegeta! Sure! She’s your mate, I get it! It won’t happen again…”

Vegeta nodded, choosing to let the matter go this time. He was in such a great mood that not even Raditz’s antics could spoil things for him.

“What about you, Nappa?” The shorter man asked his subordinate.

The older man shrugged. “You know me, Vegeta. You’re my Prince, I’ll follow you wherever you choose to go,” he vowed.

“Vegeta, that planet is the place my brother was sent to, right?” Raditz asked again.

“That is correct.”

“So… If we bring its inhabitants back to life, that’ll include my brother too?”

“I suppose…” Vegeta responded. “He died in battle, from the description Bulma gave me of his enemy, it must have been against Ginyu. Apparently, he held his own quite well…”

“Really? Wow! I thought Kakarot was supposed to be really weak. His power level must have increased a lot!” He shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. “A brother… Man! I never thought I’d have any family again… It sounds pretty good, if you ask me...”

“I agree,” Nappa said. “That means we’d be four Saiyans in total standing against Frieza when the time comes.”

“Five,” Vegeta quickly corrected, making his two friends stare at him in confusion.

“What…? What do you mean?” Raditz enquired again.

“Your brother has a son, I believe he’s about four years old.”

Nappa couldn’t believe his ears. “Wait, we can breed with them? How…? How is that even possible?”

“I honestly do not know. Perhaps we share a common ancestor… Who knows…” Vegeta responded thoughtfully. “But apparently, the child was strong, very strong for his age. He attacked Ginyu and even managed to damage his armor.”

“What?!” The other men yelled in shock.

“He did. But he did so in a fit of rage, so I assume the little brat hasn’t learned much about fighting or about how to control his power yet. Still, his potential seems promising.”

“A brother and a nephew, uh? Alright then, let’s meet your woman and get this party started!” Raditz declared excitedly, already walking towards the place where the earthlings waited patiently. Before he got too far, he turned around. “Am I allowed to talk to her?” He asked prudently, not wanting to get punched in the face by his Prince before they even got to Earth.

“Sure, but Raditz?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep them,” Vegeta threatened.

Raditz goofily winked at him, giving him thumbs up. “Gotcha!”

The Saiyan Prince kept his eyes fixated of the taller man. When he stood by his woman he saw how Bulma extended her hand to him, a sign he’d learned was the way earthlings introduced themselves sometimes, and he assented when Raditz gingerly looked at him, as if asking for his approval. Bulma smiled cordially at him and they talked as if they were best friends already.

_‘That woman…’_

_She certainly had that effect on people…_

There was something warm and comforting about her, and something told him she had a thing for welcoming outcasts into her vibrant world.

Nappa’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Vegeta,” he said, standing by his side, watching Bulma pensively through his more experienced eyes. “If we turn our back on Frieza… Well… You do realize how dangerous that is, right?”

“I know,” Vegeta agreed. “But I trust that the woman’s technology will get us ready in time.”

Both Saiyans shared a brief silence, until the bald one spoke again, never taking his eyes off Bulma.

“Is she worth it?”

Vegeta smirked, fully understanding the meaning behind his subordinate’s words.

Was she worth walking away from everyone and everything they knew, just to end up living in some backwater planet in a galaxy far away? The consequences and the implications of what Frieza would only consider a betrayal were heavy, and certainly deadly, based on what he’d seen so far, but…

There she was, standing fearlessly in front of one of his men. A warrior that was at least twice her height and could kill her with the tip of a finger, and yet, she remained confident, cheerfully talking to him with a smile on her face.

“She’s worth it, old man…” He simply replied, walking towards her, wanting nothing more than to join her and remain by her side forever.

“Whatever you say, kiddo…” Nappa mumbled to himself, loyally following his Prince with a smirk on his rugged face.

_‘Who knew?’_

Vegeta was no fool, that much was true. Unlike Raditz, he wasn’t some mindless idiot who thought with something other than his brain. The Gods knew how many stupid decisions the long-haired warrior had made through the years because of his love for the ladies, unlike Vegeta, who’d remained single, always focused on doing his job and training hard in order to increase his strength and avenge his people.

If his Prince had ever had a woman, he wouldn’t know, given how private, lonely and discreet the younger man had always been so, whatever he’d seen in that young woman, it must have been something else besides her very obvious, almost ethereal physical beauty.

And if what she’d said about Kakarot’s son was the truth, she’d be able to give him a child, an heir to carry the Royal bloodline of the House of Vegeta.

_A new Saiyan Prince…_

Yes, when Frieza eventually found them, they’d be ready and waiting for him, and perhaps it would do his Prince some good to have a mate and a child to fight for this time. Maybe the desire for protection would also get him closer to his ascension, enabling him to finally become the Legendary.

“Oh, you’re gonna love her! You’ll see!” Bulma enthusiastically told Raditz.

“Who’s going to love who?” Vegeta asked, finally joining his new mate and the taller man.

Bulma quickly turned around, smiling at the Prince once more. “Hi, there! I was just talking to Raditz about a girl that’s perfect for him!”

Vegeta interestedly raised an eyebrow at that.

“We haven’t even gotten to Earth yet and you’re already thinking about bedding women?”

“Hey, now! She’s the one who offered, actually…” Raditz replied, slightly embarrassed.

The shorter man chuckled in amusement, glancing at Bulma. “Is that so, woman?”

“Yeah… But it’s only because he asked if all women on my planet were hot!” The woman whined defensively.

Vegeta couldn’t help but shake his head at that.

_‘Was he the only one who took things seriously around here?’_

“Anyway… I told him there are some really pretty girls on Earth, and I have this old friend of mine that would be great for him!”

“I’m listening…” Raditz replied with serious mockery.

“Well, she’s really hot…”

“I like her already.”

Bulma giggled at that. She liked Raditz, he had a playfulness that definitely was missing on Vegeta, and she could tell the giant rascal was probably the funniest of the gang.

“Yup!”

“What does she look like? Does she have hair like yours?”    

“Mmm… Not really… She actually changes her hair quite often… Sometimes it’s dark blue, sometimes she goes blonde… But you’re really gonna love her! She’s a little bit like two different people… She can be really sweet but also real feisty at times…”

“Mmm… Feisty, uh? Sounds good to me… I like women with a backbone.”

“Oh, trust me…” She promised mischievously. “You’re never gonna get bored with this girl…”

Vegeta witnessed the exchange silently, getting the impression that his woman was messing with Raditz in some way. There was a barely concealed humorous tone in her voice that he knew oh, too well. He supposed it was one of the perks of having spent so much time around her, trying to learn as much as he could about the pretty woman.

“Hey guys! I found him!” Krillin’s voice yelled happily.

They all turned around, only to find the hairless man standing with a young Namekian child by his side.

“Ah! Great!” Bulma spoke excitedly. “This is Dende,” she explained to the two Saiyans. “He’s going to make the wishes for us.”

“Why him?” Vegeta inquired.

“The wishes can only be voiced in the Namekian language, apparently there’s also a special formula that must be pronounced.”

The Prince nodded in understanding. “I see… I assume you and your friends have the seventh Dragon Ball…”

Bulma smirked naughtily. “We do.”

“So, are we ready to start the process now?”

“We are. You have the rest of them, right?”

“We do.”

“Then it’ll be easier to bring ours to the spot where you’ve hidden yours.” She looked at Krillin and spoke authoritatively. “Krillin, will you bring the Dragon Ball, please?”

“Um, sure…” The monk quickly replied, having given up on trying to comprehend what the Hell was going on here a long time ago. Bulma looked really chummy with those three Saiyans, so he figured she’d have everything under control by now. As long as he didn’t end up getting killed, he truly didn’t mind whether the crazy woman brought those three guys to Earth or not.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I’ll go get the house…” Bulma said, making a move to leave in order to go back to the cave and encapsulate the small dwelling, but Vegeta stopped her immediately, grabbing her arm softly but firmly.

“I’ll do it. Wait for me here.”

“Oh, um, thanks Vegeta…” She whispered, blushing at the intense look the Prince was giving her. “You just have to press the large yellow button by the door.”

Vegeta assented, letting go of her and following her instructions.

Nappa quietly observed the couple’s exchange and he smiled knowingly at the sight of his Prince falling in love for the first time in his life, something he’d never thought he’d ever witness.

A girly voice got his attention. “Nappa, right?” She asked, politely offering him her hand, a gesture he’d seen her share with Raditz just moments earlier. He took it, carefully squeezing it back.

“That is correct.”

Bulma gave him a warm, welcoming smile, and Nappa rapidly understood how Vegeta was so taken by this small creature. She looked fragile in appearance, but her spirit was brave and exuberant.

“It’s nice to finally meet you…” She replied, and after a brief pause, she asked him the question that had been on her mind for quite a while now. “Um, can I…? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you remove some pieces from Vegeta’s scouter?”

The older man’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“His scouter… When he lent it to you? Did you…?”

Raditz laughed loudly at that, intruding in their private conversation. “Nappa borrowing Vegeta’s scouter? Ha! That’s a good one!”

Bulma frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Child, Vegeta is extremely fussy and possessive when it comes to his property, his scouter in particular. He’d never let anyone else touch it!” Nappa answered in all seriousness, he then tilted his head to the side curiously. “What made you ask such a thing?”

“No reason…” The woman replied with a mysterious smile on her lips, which turned into a huge grin as soon as Vegeta came back to her and placed the small capsule on the palm of her hand. Before the Prince had time to open his mouth to ask the reason behind her beaming expression, she threw herself into his arms, literally clinging to him.

“Woman,” he whispered, feeling his cheeks grow crimson. “What are you…?”

“I thought we were ready to go,” Bulma simply answered.

“We… We are…”

“So, I can’t fly,” she pouted childishly. “Aren’t you going to fly me with you?” She asked, fluttering her long eyelashes coquettishly.

His throat bobbed nervously, and it became quite evident Vegeta was not used to such public acts of affection.

“Or, you know… I could ask one of the other guys to fly me there. Maybe Krillin, or perhaps even Yam…”

Vegeta immediately locked his arms around her waist, so greedily and tightly Bulma couldn’t even finish her teasing sentence.

“Over my dead body,” he whispered possessively in her ear, making her giddy with excitement. He simply took off into the sky, and a side-eyed glance told him Bulma had been teasing him purposefully to get her way. “You really are a troublesome woman…” He muttered.

Bulma giggled in delight, nuzzling his cheek and kissing it indolently. “Oh, you have _no idea_ , Prince Vegeta…” She mumbled tantalizingly, already impatient to make her wishes come true and finally get to spend some alone time with the handsome man, who was now groaning and pressing her against his deliciously muscular body even tighter in response to her blatant attempts at seducing him.

He smirked maliciously, barely succeeding in keeping his carnal urges in check.

“Just wait until I have you all to myself…” He threatened wickedly. “You’re playing with fire, little woman…”

She just buried her face in the crook of his neck, protecting her delicate visage from the cold air and inhaling his musky, masculine scent.

“I can’t wait…” She whispered breathlessly.

They all finally landed on the spot where the three Saiyans had hidden the Dragon Balls, and Nappa and Raditz went to find them, beginning the process of arranging them in the right position, with the help of her friends, under Dende’s instructions while Bulma and Vegeta waited calmly, both sitting cross-armed on a nearby rock, silently witnessing the scene.

“Bulma, I’ve been thinking… If Frieza eventually comes to this planet himself…”

“It won’t matter…” Bulma cut him off, having guessed already what his concerns were. “The Dragon Balls will be useless for a while after we make our wishes.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah… And even if they are back to normal by the time Frieza gets here… Well, let’s just say that I talked to the Namekians, and they’ve told me they’d rather die than letting that asshole use the Dragon Balls…”

“He will do just that, you know that, right?” Vegeta kept warning her.

“I know… And again, it won’t matter…” Bulma coolly replied. “Once the Earth is restored, so will our Dragon Balls. So, we can bring the Namekians and their planet back to life in the future anyway without Frieza’s knowledge.”  

Bulma felt Vegeta’s shocked eyes on her, wordlessly staring in admiration.

“I am a genius, after all…” She smugly stated, lifting her chin in an arrogant but devastatingly attractive stance.

Just as the Prince was about to retort in some futile attempt to bring his woman down a notch, Krillin interrupted them once again.

“Um, guys? We’re ready!”

“Alright,” Bulma declared, standing up and shaking off the dust from her lovely bottom. “Let’s go, Prince Vegeta…” She said walking in Krillin’s direction without even giving her mate a second glace.

“That woman…” Vegeta mumbled. A side of him felt deeply offended by her woman ordering him around, and the other one just followed right behind her like some unpracticed, naïve young boy.

“Bulma, you never told us what your third wish was,” Krillin enquired. “I assumed it was to take us all back to Earth, but you said…”     

“That’s exactly what it is, Krillin,” Bulma confirmed, running her eyes over her friends and the three strong Saiyan warriors that awaited her orders diligently.

_Who would have thought that three of the strongest, most intimidating warriors in the entire Universe, would be now on their side?_

_She had a good feeling about the future…_

Bulma placed one of her hands firmly on the monk’s shoulder, addressing him with friendly self-assurance.

“Let’s ask the Dragon to take us home.”    

Krillin smiled, also happy about the idea of returning to their home planet as soon as they could. He knew Bulma had told them about the possibility of using the third wish for something else and simply use their old, disheveled ship to travel back to Earth, and he wouldn’t have minded it too much if it meant eventually getting back home, but it was good to know they wouldn’t have to endure another unpleasant journey squeezed together inside the tiny vehicle.

“They’re coming with us, then?” He asked again, his head pointing at the three Saiyan fighters, trying to confirm the orders he had to give the young Namekian.

“They are.”

“All three of them?”

“Yup!”

“Are you sure about that?”

Bulma’s dirty look was all the answer he needed before he found himself waving his hands in front of her, apologizing nervously.

“Alright! Alright! You know best…”  

Krillin knelt on the grass in front of the small Namekian child, giving him his final instructions while Bulma stood by Vegeta’s side. She could feel her heart hammering furiously inside her chest, eager to be reunited with her parents and her friends back home. She couldn’t wait to see them all again, and to show her mate her old home, inviting him into her life.

“Is everything alright?” Vegeta asked, his sharp Saiyan senses immediately noticing her nervousness.

She nodded anxiously in reply.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just excited, that’s all…” She whispered with her heart in her mouth.

Dende’s loud voice filled the air, pronouncing enigmatic words in a foreign language. Soon, his words provoked a reaction, and the enormous orange spheres flickered, shining brightly as the green Namekian sky darkened and a magical, artificial night fell upon them.

The Namekian Dragon, Porunga, finally materialized before their very bewildered eyes, and his large, red eyes illuminated briefly every time one of the first two wishes were made. The earthlings jumped and cheered in pure joy while the Saiyans stood stoically, although barely able to conceal their stupefaction at the unusual spectacle they were a part of.

Just as the Namekian child commenced the process of making their third wish, Bulma felt the warm, comforting presence of Vegeta’s fingers intertwining with hers, apparently not caring about his gesture of affection being seen by anyone else, especially now that everyone’s eyes were focused on the gigantic magical creature in the sky. She immediately squeezed back, responding to his touch and closing her eyes shut as she felt her body slowly evaporate, vanishing into thin air in a bright flash of light.

When she finally dared to open them again, the familiar rays of the Sun almost blinded her.

_Her planet’s sun…_

Vegeta blinked a few times, fleetingly disoriented by the unfamiliar sounds, scents and colors surrounding him. Despite having spent most of his life traveling throughout countless Galaxies, discovering and exploring a myriad of planets, it was always confusing visiting a new world.

But this time, he wasn’t visiting.

This time, he was here to stay.

He felt his mate’s hand clasp his lovingly one final time, wordlessly attempting to get his attention. When he finally set his eyes on her, he allowed the ghost of a smile grace his lips. And in that moment, the unadulterated joy in her features made him realize she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Welcome to Earth, Vegeta,” she whispered merrily in his ear, placing a warm, feathery kiss on his strong jaw.

Vegeta raised his eyes, admiring the magnificence that now enveloped him.

Earth: a planet that was beautiful, warm and blue, just like his Bulma.

_He loved them both already…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Chocolate Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks asks Bulma a very personal question...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little play along requested by Vegetastan.
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to write this one, but I've been really busy lately and now I have more free time again.
> 
> I hope you like it!

** 6\. Chocolate Cake **

 

 **Hey, it's me Vegetastan** **☺** **. Got a new play along for ya. Trunks: Hey Mom, can I ask you something? Mom: Sure, what is it? Trunks: How did you know you were in love with Papa?**

 

Bulma momentarily stopped spreading the chocolate frosting over the cake she’d just baked for her husband and she looked at her son.

“Why do you ask?” She finally said, resuming her task.

“Well… Today is your wedding anniversary, right?”

“Yeah… And?”

“And… Every year I go to Goten’s place so you two can celebrate together…”

Bulma kept working on her cake, secretly wondering where her child was going with this. It was unlike Trunks to ask a lot of questions about her relationship with Vegeta, particularly about their early rocky years.

“So?”

“So, every year Goten’s mom asks me about you two. Like… I don’t know… It’s almost like she can’t believe you guys are in love or something…”

The hidden sorrow behind her son’s voice made her heart sink a little, and her anger at her discovery of Chichi’s nosiness didn’t help either.

_‘Damn, Chichi…’_

_She was one to talk about love and romance…_

Her husband only married her in order to keep some stupid childhood promise he’d made without even knowing what marriage was really all about. Thankfully, it’d all worked out in the end for the two of them, but it wasn’t as if it’d been the _‘Romance of the Century’_ either, certainly, not at the beginning.

_For Dende’s sake! Goku even thought getting married had to do with food!_

“Sweetie, come here. Sit down…” Bulma said softly, encouraging the boy to sit by her side. She guessed it was as good a time as any to discuss certain things with Trunks.

She quickly finished her work and she set the finished cake aside, peeking at the large bowl on the table, which still had some melted chocolate left in it.

“Wanna dip?” Bulma offered, playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

Trunks replied enthusiastically, without hesitation. “Yeah!”

Bulma chuckled, shaking her head as she walked to Capsule Corp.’s massive fridge to fetch some fresh strawberries. Living with a couple of Saiyans wasn’t always easy, but at least it wasn’t hard to figure out how to cheer them up: with lots of delicious food.

She set the strawberries on the table, quietly offering them to Trunks, who eagerly grabbed a juicy berry and happily dipped it into the chocolate as Bulma imitated his actions.

“So… Love, uh?”

“Yup!”

“Okay… Well…” Bulma started, taking another bite. “I’d say it wasn’t something that happened overnight, you know?”

The little boy scowled. “So, it wasn’t like in the movies?”

“In the movies?”

“Yeah…” Trunks shrugged. “Like, when the girl meets the guy and she knows she’s gonna marry him and stuff…”

The woman smiled knowingly. “You mean _‘love at first sight’_ , right?”

“I guess…”

“Mmm… No, Trunks. From my experience, love doesn’t really work that way.”

“It doesn’t?” Trunks asked, honestly surprised.

Bulma finished her strawberry, picking up another one and losing count of how many her son had already eaten.

“Nope. I think you have to get to know a person before you love them. I don’t believe you can really love someone you don’t know too well…”

There was a brief pause, and Trunks realized his mom was now deep in thought.

“I guess I knew I was in love with your dad sometime before I found out I was pregnant with you…” She finally concluded.

“Really?” The child enquired, raising his eyebrows. “So, you didn’t like him at first?”

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant! If I hadn’t liked him I would have never invited him to live here! No… I guess… I guess what I mean is… You know your dad is a quiet man, right?”

“Uh-huh…” He agreed.

“So, that’s why it took longer for me to get to know him, I guess…”

Trunks swallowed a mouthful of berries before asking again.

“And why is that?”

“Why is what?”

“You know… Why is dad so quiet? Is it because he’s Saiyan?”

Bulma tilted her head to the side a little, knowing she had to be careful with how much information about Vegeta’s past she disclosed to her son. When Trunks was a baby and Vegeta finally agreed to stay on Earth and give their relationship and fatherhood a chance, she knew, even though her man had been too proud to discuss such things, that Vegeta was probably afraid of his son ending up hating him in the future, so she told him he’d only talk about his past with Trunks when the child was older and only if he felt comfortable discussing certain matters with him.

Interestingly enough, Bulma had never been truly scared of Trunks hating Vegeta when he’d finally discover his past. After all, if Mirai Trunks had ended up loving and respecting him so much without having spent a lot of time with him, she knew their Trunks, the one who’d actually been raised by a dad he fiercely admired, would undoubtedly forgive his father’s evil deeds when he was older.

“I think so, Trunks… I think a big part of it has to do with him being Saiyan. And, also… Well, your dad didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, so I guess it was hard for him at first to open up to people…”

“Papa had no friends?”

One look at Trunks’ sad frown told Bulma she’d just perhaps said too much…

“Hey! Come here!” Bulma asked invitingly, offering him a hug with open arms her son accepted greedily. She hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead, realizing that, even though Trunks wasn’t a small child anymore, he’d always be her little boy to her.

“Your dad grew up in Space, and it’s harder to make friends out there, that’s all…” She lied, after all, there’d be enough time for her son to discover how dark the Universe could be sometimes. Until then, she’d protect his innocence as much as she could, not that the child hadn’t already gone through hard times during the battle against Buu.  

“But then he came to Earth and we all welcomed him. And now he has lots of friends, right?”

Trunks smirked, so much like his father the resemblance was uncanny.

“He does…” He agreed.

Bulma held him closer, whispering in his ear. “And we all love him very much, don’t we?”

The boy blushed, embarrassed about disclosing his feelings towards his father in front of his mom.

_Oh, yeah…_

_He was Vegeta’s child, after all…_

“Moooom…” He whined as Bulma playfully ruffled his hair.

“We do love him! Now, be a good boy and bring your dad his cake, he’s been in the GR for too long and he needs to take a break anyway.”

Trunks cautiously held the massive chocolate cake his mom had baked for his dad, knowing just how much it must have meant for her since Bulma almost never cooked, always relying on their own private chefs to deal with all the cooking.

“Be careful, baby…” Bulma warned him tenderly.

“Mom?” Trunks asked again, already on his way out of the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Then when did you finally know you were in love with Papa?”

“Oh, right… Um… I guess I knew when I finally realized I’d be really sad if I ever had to live without him; that was also before I got pregnant with you,” she honestly replied.

_It was the truth._

Despite the fact that it was their mutual physical attraction towards each other what started their sexual affair so many years ago, at some point around the time she discovered she was pregnant with Trunks, she finally had the courage to admit to herself she’d really fallen in love with the proud Saiyan Prince and, even though Vegeta was still in deep denial about their new, still very fragile relationship, she knew he’d already grown fond of her on some level even then.

All in all, Bulma liked to believe there’d been some kind of love involved during Trunks’ conception, and she unquestionably wanted her child to firmly believe that too.

“I see… Thanks Mom!”

“No problem, sweetie… Careful with that cake! And don’t drop the fork!” She cautioned as she saw the boy walking out into the garden in search of his father.

Once he reached his destination, Trunks knocked twice on the heavy gate of his dad’s beloved Gravity Room. Almost instantly, the buzzing noise ceased, signaling Vegeta had switched it off, and a very sweaty Saiyan opened the metal door.

“What is it, boy?” He asked, wiping off some of the sweat from his brow with a white towel and taking a large gulp of ice cold water with his other hand.

“Um, Mom asked to bring you this, she made it for you…”

One look at the sweet delicacy told Vegeta all he needed to know about what day it was.

“I see…” He replied, sitting on the stairs by the door and grabbing the cake, putting it carefully on his lap and picking up the fork his woman had also placed on the large plate. When he raised his gaze, he noticed Trunks still standing right in front of him, staring at him with intrigued eyes.

“Is there anything else you need, boy?”

“Uh? Um, no, that was all… I hope you like it, Papa!”

Vegeta assented in confirmation and just as his son was about to leave, he saw him turn around, asking him one final question.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“You have a lot of friends now, right?”

The Prince stopped chewing on his mouthful of cake for a moment, wondering what the Hell was the kid talking about now. Whatever it was, the expression on his face told him it was a serious question, so he pondered his words for a minute.

_‘Friends.’_

_What a word…_

He knew just how fond those damned earthlings were of their friendships and all of those strange, sentimental attachments and, yet, hadn’t he ended up becoming one of them anyway?

The closest thing to a _‘friend’_ he’d had before he landed on Earth were Nappa and Raditz, and they were more like comrades to him, subjects of the Royal Crown, and if he was honest with himself, they basically stuck together because they were the only ones from their kind left.

_Then, did he have any friends?_

If the definition of a friend was someone who fought by your side and that you could rely on when things got ugly, then, much to his shame, he had to admit all these bizarre, ridiculous people had become his friends, so he assented.

“I do, boy. Now, why don’t you go to the kitchen and help your mother clean up?”

Trunks offered him the brightest smile, and he looked so relieved by his answer that now Vegeta knew he’d definitely have to ask Bulma what that whole friend questioning thing was all about later. He had the feeling she’d had a hand on it.

“Sure!” He yelled, running to the kitchen. “Have fun with Mom tonight!”

Vegeta drank some more water, paying close attention to the scene taking place now in their kitchen through its large glass windows. Trunks was, indeed, helping Bulma place all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as she sat down, distractedly rubbing her belly. He noticed his wife had been doing that a lot ever since she’d found out she was pregnant again, and even though she wasn’t showing yet, she kept caressing her still flat tummy at all times. It was a miracle no one had noted her strange behavior yet. Bulma had insisted they kept it a secret for as long as they could, concerned about something potentially going wrong during the early stages. She was older now than she was when she conceived Trunks and he’d had a hard time convincing her about having another child.

He smirked, pleased to see his son was growing up to be a responsible young man, obeying him without question, though he knew Bulma had played a big role on Trunks becoming the kind-hearted kid he was. Without his mother’s presence around him, the child would have probably become the grumpy, miserable man he himself had been before the woman came into his life, smashing his barriers down and making him see and explore life in a way he never thought possible.

The warrior savored another bite of the delicious cake, secretly trying to imagine what kind of a surprise his mischievous little minx would have prepared for him tonight, and he wiped off his brow again with the back of his hand, looking at the summer’s bright blue sky and wondering how was it possible that someone like him ended up getting so damn lucky.

_Yes, life was good for the Saiyan Prince…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, mushy stuff... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Papa!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I already started working on my next chapter of “Yellow Roses”, but I thought I'd write some fluff first after writing so much angst and smut lately. I got this little question in my inbox, on my Tumblr, and the mental image was too tempting for me not to write a little something about it.
> 
> I hope you like it!

**7\. Papa!**

 

**Anonymous asked: How do you think Vegeta felt when Trunks called him Papa for the first time**

 

The heat was unbearably dense, the pressure rising gradually as Vegeta stood by the control console, proceeding to increase the forces inside the Gravity Room that his mate had designed especially for him.

It’d become a routine by now, a daily routine of grueling, hardcore exercise, pushing his body to the limit and constantly testing his boundaries, much to his woman’s dismay. As much as it pained him to admit it, Bulma had become the main reason why, ever since he’d finally found the strength and the will to go back to his regular training schedule, months after his depression following the Cell Games debacle, he’d managed to find a balance between keeping up with his brutal physical regime and staying alive somehow.

The thought of taking care of himself for the sake of someone else’s peace of mind was something new for a lonesome warrior like himself, just like sharing his life with a woman who actually cared for him, and that found inexplicable happiness in his company, had most certainly represented a major change in his existence. But _nothing_ could have ever prepared him for the incredibly foreign emotions coursing right through him ever since he’d embarked in what he’d soon realized would be the greatest emotional challenge of his new life on Earth.

Behind him, right in the middle of the heated training chamber, a lavender-haired baby boy stood on a pair of chubby, wobbly legs. His mother’s bright blue eyes frowning in concentration, in an almost comical imitation of his father’s trademark scowl, his little arms stretched to his sides, tiny fists clutched and lips firmly pursed as he precariously struggled to keep his balance with a stubbornness that would make his Saiyan great-grandfathers proud.

Vegeta still couldn’t believe it.      

He found it impossible to believe that the boy’s mother had actually agreed, without even putting up a fight, to his outrageous suggestion of commencing Trunks’ training as soon as the child started to walk. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d treated both Bulma and the boy with the most blatant disregard, barely acknowledging their presence and importance in his life, and even refusing to save both of them in the battlefield, a shameful event he’d deeply regret for the rest of his days. And yet, Bulma had welcomed him back with open arms, giving their still too fragile relationship a second chance and, now, offering him the opportunity of training and raising the child with her.

The Prince had the strong suspicion that his mate’s unconditional love and generosity towards an outcast like him would forever remain a mystery in his mind. But, deep down, he’d always feel infinitely grateful for it, despite living with the unshakeable premonition that, not only he’d never be able to find a way of expressing just how much Bulma’s trust meant to him, but that, sooner or later, he’d end up failing them both in the long run, just as he always did.

Before his pessimistic, gloomy thoughts could take hold of him, the warrior quickly shook them off, choosing to focus on the child instead. Thanks to his past experiences with Mirai Trunks, Vegeta already knew just how unbelievably strong Trunks would grow up to be. The boy was half-Saiyan, after all. But the little brat was young still, and if the boy got hurt in any way during their training sessions, not only would there be Hell to pay with his woman, but the Prince knew his own guilt would never allow him to live with himself afterwards.

“Alright…” The Prince declared in a soft but firm tone as he typed in the settings he considered appropriate for the child to handle safely. “Look at me, boy…”

His father’s grave voice instantly caught the young child’s attention and, in the blink of an eye, Trunks penetrating scowl was promptly replaced by an ingenuous look of naïve fascination as he stared at the minuscule energy ball Vegeta had gathered in the palm of his roughed hand.

It took the Saiyan a few seconds to collect himself and continue with the boy’s education. The innocence in those oceanic eyes, as pure as driven snow and _oh_ so frighteningly similar to that in his mate’s gaze, unnerved him still. And he knew that it would take an entire lifetime for him to get used to the outlandish idea of a killer like him contributing to bringing such a pure, uncorrupted being into this world.

“Follow me, boy…” He finally instructed with as much kindness as he could muster, even though in the last few days, ever since he’d begun his son’s coaching, it’d become apparent that the boy’s fear towards him had disappeared by now.           

Trunks blinked a few times in surprise, raising his eyebrows and gasping in genuine interest and admiration towards his father’s enigmatic power.

“Trunks,” he summoned again, slightly increasing the size of his ki ball in order to further lure the small boy. “Follow me…”  

This time, the child understood his father’s commands at last, and he nodded in excited agreement, his pudgy little arms stretching in front of him as he initiated the arduous task of walking in the direction of Vegeta’s spot as the gravity forces kept hindering his efforts.

Soon, the candid captivation in the child’s face morphed into that familiarly deep, ferocious scowl of his, as he relentlessly chased his much-prized goal, making his father’s chest inwardly swell with pride as he witnessed the boy’s Saiyan instincts taking over, pursuing his target with a determination that no human boy would ever be able to possess.

The child kept walking steadily, his fingers wiggling anxiously, vainly attempting to catch the Prince’s mysterious gift. Before long, Trunks was puffing and groaning, little beads of sweat dampening his hair and streaming down his forehead as he fought the inhuman forces crippling him, literally blocking him and stopping him from reaching his golden goal. But the little brat was progressing, Vegeta noticed, and doing so at an impressive speed, his previously shaky, unsteady legs, now growing stronger and noticeably more confident as he carried his father’s instructions.

It took a good twenty minutes for his strength to falter, his resolve weakening as he slowed down his pace, finally landing, quite literally, on his bottom, his fall cushioned by the dinosaur diapers he was wearing underneath his yellow overalls. Trunks panted lightly, running his minute hands across his eyes, getting rid of the salty drops now blinding him under his father’s watchful eye.

“Impressive…” Vegeta mumbled to himself, dispersing his little sphere of energy and taking a few steps forward, standing cross-armed in front of his son, his astute eyes fixated on him as he analyzed the boy’s ki signal.

Despite the child’s premature exhaustion, he could tell that he was strong, perhaps even stronger than he himself had been at his age, even though the Prince had absolutely no way to confirm or disprove his theory. A hundred generations of Royal Blood run through the child’s veins, and the warrior knew, without question, that someday Trunks would surpass him in strength. The very thought of someone, _anyone_ , besting him in combat had always made his blood boil but, oddly enough, a rare sense of pride and satisfaction engulfed him at the mental image of his offspring being the one to steal his crown in the future.

Vegeta stood still, hesitating for an instant about his next plan of action. He’d considered perhaps giving the child a chance to recover from his fatigue before trying once more, but, as soon as Trunks yawned loudly, tiredly rubbing his eyes, he soon learnt that the boy had had enough training for a day.    

“Tired already, boy?” The Prince asked knowingly, the tinge of a slick smirk crossing his lips.

The child nodded sleepily, extending his arms towards his father in a silent plea for him to pick him up from the ground, and the older man couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow in disbelief at his son’s request.

“Absolutely not, boy. A Saiyan stands on his own,” he stated with firm conviction.

Trunks’ plump little face fell sadly at his father’s rejection, making the Prince secretly curse at just how scarily similar he looked to Bulma’s gestures whenever she begged him to do something for her, bending him to her will and always getting him to do whatever she asked of him.

_But he’d be damned if he let the boy get away with this type of soppy behavior as well…_

“Trunks,” he gently commanded, his robust arms still inflexibly crossed over his chest. “Stand up, boy…”

The boy sighed in frustration, shaking his head no and pouting sullenly as he kept stretching his arms suppliantly, his chubby little fingers wriggling eagerly in his father’s direction.

“I said no, boy,” the Prince retorted, fearing that he’d end up losing his feeble patience any minute now. “You must stand on your own, Trunks. A true warrior must _always_ …”

“Papa!” The child sobbed, his tiny fists clenching and unclenching nervously as he sought his father’s assistance.   

Vegeta’s words instantly froze in the back of his throat, gaping in shock at what appeared to be the boy’s very first word. He’d heard the little brat babbling annoyingly for the past couple of months, muttering unintelligible sounds that his Bulma had told him were perfectly normal for a child his age. The Saiyan didn’t know much about children, all he knew was that, when his mate had confessed her excitement and curiosity about what Trunks’ first word would be, the last thing he’d ever imagined was that it’d have anything to do with _him_.

“Trunks…” He muttered, awkwardly clearing his throat and figuring that, perhaps, all of this had been nothing more than some bizarre coincidence. “Boy, you must…”

“Papa!” The child yelled again, his disappointment turning into a kind of strange, childish amusement at the unusual sight of his father’s obvious amazement.

The Prince’s speech was immediately cut off again, comprehending that the child’s word had been no accident, after all.

Papa.

_Well, he’d be damned…_

Not only had his son just called him _‘Papa’_ , but the boy kept staring at him with those sparkly blue eyes, filled to the brim with wide-eyed interest. His short arms were still extended to him, wanting not only his help but his comfort as well.

His son, _his own son_ , was seeking comfort.

_In him._

Vegeta’s mouth went dry, feeling as if every wisp of air had been knocked from his lungs, and that all too familiar tightness in his chest, that rare warmth that always overcame him whenever he got to share some alone time with Bulma and the blasted woman made him _feel_ for her.

He had to get out.

_Now._

The Prince bent down, grabbing the kid from the back of his sweaty baby overalls and lifting him off the floor. Trunks fidgeted and squirmed in his hold, his little arms and legs still reaching out to him, trying to hug him without success as Vegeta’s fully stretched arm kept him at bay.   

“Papa!” The child exclaimed again, wheezing and puckering in discontent when his father wouldn’t relent to his wishes.

“Boy!” Vegeta ordered, already walking towards the exit door, his chest constricting and his face scorching hot. “S-S-Stop it… _Stop that_!”

_And then it happened..._

The boy giggled.

A loud, cheerful giggle, as if the sight of his father blushing furiously, and the almost humorous way in which his cheek twitched in agitation, was the funniest thing Trunks had seen in his entire life.

“Papa!” He laughed again.

“T-Trunks…” Vegeta mumbled threateningly. “S-Stop that!!!”

“Papapapapapapapapapapapapa!!!”

The warrior finally made it to the Chamber’s door, swiftly unlocking it and cracking it wide open, stepping into the grass as the boy kept happily waving his arms and legs around in the air, chuckling and snickering in glee, undoubtedly having the time of his life.

“Woman!” The Saiyan vociferated, calling out for Bulma, who was lounging by the pool, discussing Capsule Corp. business on the phone as she savored the last few sunrays of the day.

“I know, I know…” The scientist uttered to whoever was on the other end of the line, completely ignoring her mate’s words as he quickly approached her with their son still hanging in the air, his cute little face bright red with laughter.

“Bulma!” He demanded grouchily, now standing by her side and offering the kid to her. “Take your child!”

“Uh?” Bulma asked, absolutely dumbfounded by the curious scene unfolding before her eyes, wondering why her mate’s face was so oddly livid while their son, literally hanging from his arm, kept cackling stridently as if there were no tomorrow. “Uh, could you wait just a minute, Veg…?”

“N-No! T-Take him! Take him now!”

“Um… Will you give me just a second?” Bulma asked to the employee she was on the phone with. “Vegeta, what in Heaven’s name is happening her…?”

“Papa!” Trunks yelled vivaciously again.

“Trunks! S-Stop that!!!”

“ _Oh,_ _my Gods_ …” Bulma gasped in total shock, finally understanding the reason behind Vegeta’s evident turmoil.

Feelings.

_Feelings for days…_

“O-Okay… I’ll call you later…” She mumbled, saying goodbye to the woman on the phone and barely able to pick up Trunks before her Prince took off, inexplicably disappearing into the sky.        

“Papa!” The child whimpered sadly, pointing with his tiny finger at the shimmery spark of energy fading through the clouds, and looking at his mother with bright, disconcerted eyes.

Bulma released her phone, properly holding her baby boy in her arms as she tried to console him.

“Aw, sweetie…” She whispered softly. “Did you just say _‘Papa’_?”

Trunks nodded in assent, his eyes wide open, wondering, all of a sudden, whether he’d done something wrong.

“That a boy!” Bulma cheered him, her maternal pride shining radiantly all over her beautiful face, instantly instilling confidence into the child. “I’m sure your Papa loved it, Trunksie!”

“Papa?” Trunks asked inoffensively, still pointing to the sky as he curiously tilted his head to the side.

“Aw, it’s okay, honey…” Bulma cooed, caressing her son’s hair as she stood from her deck chair, walking through the garden in the direction of their luxurious home. “I bet your Papa was just really, _really_ surprised, that’s all. He’ll be back later, you’ll see…” She whispered reassuringly, stealing a giggle from the child when she playfully nuzzled his rosy cheek. “How about dinner and a bath?”

_The dazzling smile in Trunks’ face told her she didn’t need to ask twice…_

 

Hours later, a heavy-eyed child, cozily wrapped in a baby blue bathrobe, clutched his mother’s shirt with minuscule fists as he drowsily buried his face in her shoulder, wholly spent after a long, hot bath. Bulma tenderly pressed his lithe body against hers, soothingly rubbing his back as she felt him drifting off to sleep and quietly exiting the bathroom, stepping into hers and her mate’s bedroom.

As she walked across the faintly illuminated place, heading for Trunks’ own bedroom, a smile of bliss drew itself on her lips when she discerned the unmistakable silhouette of the man standing on her balcony, waiting patiently for her to put their son to bed before making his presence known. The vigilant, protective shadow of a lethal warrior who feared love and emotion more than anything in this vast Universe, yet he’d chosen to _stay_ , to spend the rest of his life with his family in spite of it all.

“ _Papa…_ ” The child mumbled in his sleep, his sweet breath ghosting Bulma’s warm skin as she carried him in her arms.

“I told you, baby boy…” She whispered proudly in the dark, laying a soft kiss on her son’s temple.

_“Your Papa isn’t going anywhere…”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go! 
> 
> Now we know what Trunks' first word was!
> 
> *wink*


	6. Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Briefs family welcomes a third baby who looks just like a certain Saiyan Prince...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this happened...
> 
> A long time ago, I got some anons on my Tumblr talking about the possibility of a third Briefs child who looked just like Vegeta. Then I recently got some asks again, and one message in particular made a little idea pop in my head. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a much shorter, fluffier story while I keep working on "Yellow Roses", but it evolved into something a bit different and I chose to explore it. 
> 
> I don't know if I made the idea that I had in mind work, but I hope you guys like it...

**8\. Mama**

 

**Anonymous asked: In fact I headcanon that whenever a Briefs baby is born with Vegeta’s hair Bra and Trunks, who are normally so proud, start crying, hugging each other and going “he’s just like papa!!!” “So sweet!!!” “So cute!!”**

 

“My goodness! Will you look at this cutie?” Chichi cooed with a silly smile on her face when the black-haired baby boy clutched one of her fingers with his tiny hand. “Well, aren’t you the cutest thing? Strong too, uh?”

“Woah!” Goten exclaimed in awe, peeking at the newborn from above Trunks’ shoulder. “He looks just like your dad!”

Trunks couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony in that comment. “So do you!” He retorted in a half-whisper, his eyes never leaving the baby blue bundle in his arms.

“Uh? Uh, oh, yeah…” His best friend replied with that trademark goofy grin on his face, so identical to Goku’s that the resemblance was uncanny. “He really is cute though… Look at those little bangs…” Goten commented absentmindedly. “Why did your dad get rid of them? They look so…”

An imposing clear of the throat boomed across the room, the ominous sound announcing that this particular conversation was over, and there would be no further room for argument here.

“Uh… Sorry Uncle Vegeta…” Goten mumbled sheepishly, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck as he gave the older Saiyan a timid side-glance. Goku’s youngest son had never truly feared him, but he’d always known that the Prince’s commanding presence could and should _never_ be disregarded.

Vegeta merely offered the boy a curt nod, remaining completely silent as he closed his eyes leniently, choosing to focus on the tot’s astoundingly impressive ki instead.

He’d already been through this whole experience during his daughter’s birth before, this asinine human ritual where every single acquaintance would show up, wholly uninvited, into their home after the child’s delivery, passing the little brat around like something out of a carnival.

At the time, the Prince hadn’t fully understood what all the commotion was about. In his home planet, the only thing that really mattered after a new child had entered this world was his power level, which would instantly determine the infant’s fate with no exception whatsoever. Nobody would have wasted any valuable time fawning over superficial matters like the child’s hair or eye color, or on whimsical nonsense such as their _‘adorable little hands’_ or their so-called level of _‘cuteness’._ But, much to his shame, some of the earthlings’ ridiculousness must have unwittingly rubbed off on him over the years, and that was the only explanation he could muster for the surreal mayhem of slushy emotions which had stirred inside of him the moment he’d set eyes on his third child, a familiar, sentimental turmoil he’d already experienced for the first time when Bra had been born. The circumstances surrounding the birth of both babies, however, couldn’t have been any more different.

Vegeta could still recall the outlandish levels of concern he’d experimented during Bulma’s second pregnancy, a pregnancy he’d encouraged himself, after gathering the courage to bring up the subject to his wife. Even though, through the years, the warrior had managed to create a surprisingly profound bond with his primogenital, there were times when he still found himself deeply overwhelmed with an unsettling guilt, the remorse of a father who knew that he hadn’t showered his oldest son with the love and affection that a half-human child needed and deserved. Even so, and in spite of his own emotional shortcomings, Trunks had grown up to be a fine young boy, a child who possessed his father’s inherent skill and talent for battle yet a remarkably sincere and pleasant nature, a kind warmth which could only emanate from one creature.

_Bulma._

The beautiful earthling possessed a heated temper, a fiery spirit that matched his own, but there was also a gentleness in her, an innate kindheartedness clearly alive in Trunks’ soul. That very same generosity which had made her invite him into her home when he was nothing more than a destitute genocide, a former assassin with no place in the world.

His wife had been _the one_ , the one who’d slowly but irrevocably changed his heart. And she’d done so in her own quiet way, with no pressures or concessions, respecting him for who he was and patiently allowing him to be the one to figure out who he wanted to be, and what kind of a life he wished for himself.

It’d been a bumpy road, that was for sure. A brutal quest of self-discovery, a journey filled with paradoxes, the violent clash of the cold-blooded mercenary he’d been groomed to be and the serene, loving home he’d unexpectedly found along the way. For years he’d battled a silent conflict, a vicious struggle within his soul, and he’d done it knowing that Bulma would be there, and the profound conviction that she always would be, a warm, reassuring presence constantly keeping his wounded pieces together, stopping him from falling apart.

But then his old nemesis had been brought back to life for a day, igniting a wicked fire within his heart, a sinfully dormant spark he’d thought dead long ago. That familiar, ancient yearning for death and revenge which had always made his Saiyan blood sing with unrepentant fury.

Only when he stood on a desolate wasteland with his son in his arms did he recognize, once and for all, just how pointless his resistance had been, the absurd foolishness in refusing to surrender to the best thing that ever happened to him. It was only in the face of a selfless sacrifice that he found an odd sense of peace and acceptance, making the noble choice of giving up his own life for the sake of a family he’d never dreamt of having, the family who’d become the sole reason for his existence.

His second resurrection had come as a genuine surprise, the unforeseen opportunity for a new life, a new beginning, the chance to make amends and to become the husband and father that Bulma and Trunks truly deserved.

 _“You really mean it?”_ She’d whispered in the dark, the night he’d finally dared to confess his desire for a second child.

They’d been lying on their bed, completely spent after a night of passionate lovemaking, those long, sleepless nights which had become so common ever since they’d been reunited, drowning into each other in a desperate attempt to forget the turbulent nightmare they’d all barely been able to survive to intact.

 _“I do…”_ He’d replied almost inaudibly, his fingertips carefully sweeping her tousled bangs from her delicate face.

Bulma’s reaction to his humble request had been glorious. Those bright blue eyes shining like sapphires, an old sparkle he’d thought long gone swirling again in her stare. That old flicker he’d witnessed so long ago, when their first son was nothing more than a lively toddler crawling all over the place and Bulma had shyly hinted at the possibility of giving Trunks a little brother or sister he could grow up with. It was Vegeta’s pathological fear of commitment, even at a time when he’d seemingly entirely embraced his new life on Earth, the reason why his wife’s prudent offer had gradually faded away into nothing, the real reason why Bulma had reluctantly acquiesced to things always staying as they were in their little family.

She’d pressed her lips against his with maddening tenderness that night, gladly accepting his hopeful request as she sealed her promise with a binding kiss. The Prince would never find the way to express the euphoric relief that his woman’s forgiveness had instilled into his heart, his ego bursting with enraptured pride and expectancy at the idea of a new start, a fresh chapter in his new life as a family man. But, in her faithful kiss, he’d also tasted a shamefully veiled anguish, the unspoken fear of a woman whose heart had been shattered more times than her pride would be willing to admit, and by none other than her husband, the man she’d fallen deeply in love with against all odds.

_No more._

Never again would he be so foolish, so incredibly naïve as to allow himself the luxury of taking his wife, his son and his peaceful existence on his family’s magnificent planet for granted anymore.

The Prince had made a promise to himself, an unwavering vow of protection, to remain by his woman’s side and care for her and their son come what may. He still lived with the strong suspicion that he’d never be able to become the affectionate man that his Bulma was truly worthy of, but he also knew that his wife’s generous heart would always forgive his pathetic emotional limitations, seeing beyond that carefully constructed mask of indifference and making up for his pitiful flaws.

It was during Bulma’s second pregnancy that he finally had the chance to demonstrate his merit as a partner, and the experience had proven itself to be quite exceptional indeed.

True to his word, Vegeta never abandoned his wife, witnessing in silent wonder the extraordinary changes her body and mind went through as she prepared to bring their daughter into this world. Her small frame bloomed, like an enticing flower blossoming under the bright rays of spring, and her character mellowed, at times immersed in a quiet serenity, at times as weepy as a silly little girl, but always preserving her characteristic cheerfulness.

She’d been particularly understanding during those rare but daunting moments in which she’d notice his intense nervousness, that all-consuming guilt he’d sink into whenever he’d blame himself for his negligent absence when she was carrying their first child. The irony of their circumstances had not been lost on the warrior. He was the one meant to be a supportive, caring presence at such a crucial moment in her life, yet his Bulma would always be the one heartening him instead, her warmth enveloping him like a cozy, comforting blanket, reassuring him, letting him know that he could do this, that _they_ could do this together, and that he’d make the greatest father any child could ever wish for.

Vegeta’s agitation had reached unbearable levels as the announced date approached, wholly steeped in in the creation of this new life, and discreetly collecting as much information as he could about his wife’s fascinating metamorphosis. Learning that Bulma’s age would make this adventure more fraught with danger than her earlier pregnancy with Trunks had done nothing to dissipate his most visceral fears but, as usual, his woman had been there for him, softening his spirit and vanishing his doubts like the figments of a dream.                       

In the end, all his extensive research and preparation had come to nothing when, on the eve of a new impending threat looming on their Universe’s horizon, his daughter had ultimately been delivered by an Angel. Even though a secret part of Vegeta had felt oddly curious about the prospect of being present for a natural birth, his wife’s manifest joy and liberation at how unexpectedly easy the experience had turned out to be had placated his worries at last.

When Bulma had mentioned to Whis the possibility of his assistance in the future should the couple decide to expand their family, the Prince hadn’t thought much of it, considering such an idea as nothing more than one of his wife’s many occurrences but, as it often happened when it came to the intrepid heiress, he couldn’t have been more wrong. On the night of Bra’s fourth Birthday, his fearless mate had been the one to confess her private desire for a third child and, in spite of his still deeply-rooted insecurities about his abilities to be a good father, Vegeta had gladly chosen to indulge his wife again.

The warrior’s main concern at this point had been Bulma’s age, but the earthling had downplayed the issue, and seeing her completely unperturbed by it had once more brought him an uplifting sense of calm. Vegeta had never taken the chance to inquire any further, knowing that the topic of his wife’s youth had always been a tricky one, but he’d long ago suspected that she must have taken matters into her own hands at some point. The woman appeared to be aging like a Saiyan in recent years and, as far as he was concerned, her own self-confidence was all that truly mattered.

In this occasion, as their son’s due date had gotten closer, the couple had barely felt the uncertainties from earlier times, having faith in the almighty Angel reappearing and helping Bulma at such a critical day, making things a great deal easier for her. But, much to everyone’s dismay, when the moment arrived, Whis was nowhere to be found.           

Words couldn’t describe the havoc of delirious emotions coursing through Vegeta’s head as the chaotic events quickly unfolded. All he knew was that Bulma’s tenacity had been the one to save the day, stopping him from losing his mind and promptly taking control of the situation, bravely making peace with the fact that their child would have to come to this world the traditional way.   

Throughout the years, the Prince had been present in innumerable battles, an endless array of bloodshed and destruction, of sanguinary wars in merciless combat, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was exposed to as he’d sat by his wife’s side, in the privacy of their own bedroom, with the only assistance of the head doctor of Capsule Corp.’s medical team.

Vegeta had held Bulma’s hand, watching in absolute bewilderment a rite as old as time itself while the woman fought the battle of her life. Never-ending hours of grueling struggle, of literal blood, sweat and tears, a litany of cursing and foul profanities that would have made any warrior blush in mortification but which sometimes made him have to refrain from smirking in cocky satisfaction. He’d always known that his woman was as strong as they came, but never had he been prouder, never more honored of having her as a life partner than when he saw what that apparently fragile body of hers was actually capable of.

After what had felt like a boundless eternity, the couple welcomed the third Briefs child, a healthy little cub with ten tiny fingers, ten plump toes and a fluffy tuft of raven locks, shaped with the unmistakable outline of the hair from his childhood days.

 _“Well… I guess we already know what we’re calling this one…”_ Bulma whispered with airy amusement as soon as she’d held the infant in her arms for the first time, looking absolutely besotted with the child already.

The Prince had remained silent, waiting meekly until they’d been left alone to sit on the bed, folding a strong arm around her shoulder and bringing her closer to him. He’d then gently brushed a damp lock of hair away from her face, laying a tender kiss on her temple, tacitly letting her know that she’d earned the right to name their child in any way she pleased.

 _“Aw, look…”_ She muttered again, a light giggle echoing in the room. _“It looks like there’s a little bit of me in there, after all…”_  

A pang of curiosity made Vegeta give the little brat another glance, finding himself unable to restrain the pure, honest to Gods smile curling in his lips at the sight of a pair of luminous blue eyes staring innocently at him, those very same eyes he so loved to get lost into whenever he was alone with his gorgeous wife, and which every single one of their children had inherited, after all.

That was three days ago and, without any Senzu beans available for at least another week, Bulma had no other choice but to allow her body to heal naturally. The Son family and the rest of her motley crew of friends had finally visited them today to meet their baby boy, and even though his wife had been a remarkably good sport, playing the role of the welcoming hostess as well as only she could, Vegeta had been tracking her ki through the day, clearly sensing her extreme exhaustion, and inwardly hoping for the day to be over so that his woman could get some much-needed rest. In the end, it was his son the one who luckily gave the couple a window of opportunity to get rid of their well-meaning but irritating guests.

“Aw, sweetie…” Bulma sighed tiredly, already extending her arms to her oldest son, who kept holding his crying baby brother in his arms, totally enamored with the child. “I think he’s hungry. Will you please bring him to me, Trunks?”

“Uh?” The teenager mumbled distractedly, his eyes still locked on the infant. “Sure, Mama… Here…”

Trunks cautiously placed little Vegeta in the arms of his fatigued mother, holding his head with great care, just like his parents had taught him when baby Bra was born. He’d learnt quite a few things about being a big brother back then, and one of them was knowing that his father wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea of having a crowd of people hanging around for lengthy periods of time, especially with an infant in the house, so he decided to lend a hand by taking the initiative.

“We’ll leave you alone for a bit, right guys?” He asked the rest of the gang, already walking to the door and earning a knowing smirk of approval from his father in return. “I’m sure Grandma will have some snacks ready...”

The young man didn’t need to ask twice and, after quickly saying their goodbyes to the infant and the drained mother, the guests soon followed right behind him, eager to wallow in the feast that they already knew was awaiting them.

“Finally…” Vegeta groaned surly, joining his wife’s side by the bed the minute their oldest son closed the door, providing the couple with the intimacy they’d so been wishing for.

“Oh, honey… I know they can be a handful, but they mean well…” Bulma calmly explained, never taking her eyes off the child as she smiled in satisfaction, glad to see that she was now able to feed her baby with little trouble. “They just wanted to meet this cutie pie, that’s all…”

The Prince said nothing, internally biting his tongue so as not to upset his wife. He’d long ago learnt of the overtly friendly, almost intrusive nature of all of these earthlings, but having them close meant so much to Bulma that he’d pretty much accepted and embraced the fact that their home would be an anarchic muddle most of the time. In the end, it didn’t matter all that much anyway, he’d be a happy man as long as he got to enjoy some alone time with his woman on a regular basis. And the heiress had always been brilliant in that respect, just like in so many others, cleverly reserving little moments here and there exclusively for her husband, those special times he’d come to cherish so much, when his wife would make him feel like the greatest man in the world.

Bulma gingerly leaned her head on Vegeta’s broad shoulder, humming in bliss when her man readily spoiled her, wrapping his arm around her and nuzzling her feathery hair in loving response. They sat that way for countless minutes, savoring the stillness in the room, a quietude only slightly disturbed by the soft suckling sounds of their new baby boy, his healthy appetite already a solid proof of his proud Saiyan heritage. It was a beautifully rare sense of calmness, a serenity they both knew wouldn’t last long seeing the incredibly fast pace in which their children were growing up, and that the couple wished to delight in for as long as they could before life would eventually take it away from them.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered, turning to her husband as she frowned in confusion, abruptly interrupting the hypnotizing trance they’d both been immersed in. “Where’s Bra?”

It took the Prince a second to contemplate his wife’s startling question, and his eyes widened all of a sudden when he realized with chagrin that he’d lost track of the little girl’s whereabouts a while ago. He’d been so absorbed in monitoring his wife and newborn’s ki signal all through the chaos taking place that day, that he’d made the big mistake of failing to pay attention to their only daughter.

His sharp eyebrows knitted together, his fingertips tensing a tad on his woman’s shoulder as he closed his eyes and focused his finely tuned Saiyan senses in search of Bra’s mysterious location.

“She’s in Trunks’ room,” he quickly concluded, his agitation intensifying, wondering just what in Heaven’s name was the little rascal doing in her brother’s bedroom all by herself.

The uneasiness swimming in Bulma’s bleary eyes told him that his genius wife was clearly sharing his concern.

“Could you go and get her, please?” She asked wearily, not even bothering to conceal her state of worriedness. “I think it’d be good if she spent some time with the baby…”

Under normal circumstances, Vegeta would’ve tried to resist a direct demand from his wife for a bit, choosing to tease her instead, engaging in one of those lighthearted quarrels they both secretly loved so much. But today, Bulma’s distraught tone and plain enervation left no time for discussion and, given how peculiarly their little girl had been acting ever since his wife had announced her latest pregnancy, something told him that the scientist had been right when she’d warned him about the unhappy emotions their daughter may go through when she discovered that she no longer would be the youngest child in the Briefs household.       

“I’ll be right back,” he breathed against her pale skin, kissing her forehead and inhaling softly, indulging in his wife’s warmth one last time before leaving her side.

It was almost humiliating just how amazingly protective he always felt towards his wife and children, but during Bulma’s pregnancies and the days following the birth of a new member of the family, he downright acted like a doting fool, and the only thing that made such an uncharacteristic Saiyan behavior tolerable was knowing that his woman loved every blasted minute of the sappy affection he only displayed in the privacy of their own sheltered home.

After giving his wife and son a final look, Vegeta exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him so as not to disrupt the peaceful scene taking place inside, and he walked across the long corridors of their luxurious house in search of his mischievous daughter. Bra was most definitely a sweet little girl with her mother’s heart of gold, but as she’d grown older, the bubbly brat had surely developed a sunny personality and a taste for getting into trouble with dangerous ease. At first, he’d blamed himself for the child’s silly antics, attributing them to her impetuous Saiyan genes but, through the years, the warrior had heard enough anecdotes about his wife in order to recognize that Bulma Briefs had also been quite a naughty child herself, whose crazy, humorous tales amused him to no end.

Relief flooded right through him as he approached Trunks’s bedroom, sensing his daughter’s presence inside. But that brief respite soon gave room to a new sense of concern as soon as he picked up on the evident distress in the child’s ki.

“Bra?” Vegeta asked with reservation behind the shut door, opening it immediately without even bothering to wait for a reply. He stepped into the chaotic jumble that was his teenage son’s place, following the girl’s signal and gawking in sheer shock when he finally set his eyes on her.

He found her inside of Trunks’ private bathroom, standing barefoot on top of the cluttered sink, a plastic comb in one of her tiny hands and a tub of that disgustingly gooey substance that his son sometimes liked to put on his hair in the other. She kept staring at herself in the mirror, an intense look of fierce determination in her innocent eyes as she combed her sticky hair in an upwards motion, as if she were attempting to make it stand straight with no success. Not only had she applied so much of the messy gel that her fine hair was totally soaked in it, but her naturally limp locks refused to follow the child’s rebellious instructions.

“Bra…?” The astonished father cautiously asked, wanting nothing more than to yank the comb out of her hands so that she’d stop doing whatever the Hell it was that she was doing, but knowing that using the force with the child wouldn’t work anyway. “What are you doing?” He inquired softly, standing right behind her and observing her reflection in the mirror.

The tenacious little girl seemed to ignore her father’s question, choosing to focus on her enigmatic task at hand. Soon it became patent that, whatever her plan was, it definitely wasn’t working, and her sad pout and almost teary eyes let Vegeta know that she knew it, and she was now getting ready to admit defeat.

“Bra,” the Saiyan called again, gently taking hold of her minute wrist in a mild encouragement for attention. “What are you…?”

“No!” Bra yelled all of a sudden, pulling away from her father’s grasp and bringing the comb and tub of hair gel close to her chest, looking as if she’d fight anyone trying to take such prized possessions away from her.     

Vegeta took a deep breath, trying to remain cool for the sake of his visibly upset daughter, and of what was possibly a very worried Bulma awaiting them in their own room.

“Bra, look at me, child…” He demanded in a benevolent tone, his hands reaching for her petite torso, effortlessly lifting her up and turning her around so she’d face him. “What’s all this about?”

The little girl sat at the edge of the sink’s counter, pressing her knees to her chest protectively, stubbornly refusing to let go of her big brother’s objects and to make eye contact with her father.

“Bra…” Vegeta muttered, picking up a small hand-towel and wiping off a few drops of the goopy stuff dripping across his daughter’s small forehead. “I cannot help you unless you tell me what it is that you’re trying to do here…”

After what felt like infinity, Bra agreed to look at her puzzled father at last, and the expression of pure misery in her blue gaze made Vegeta’s heart constrict painfully inside his chest. Fewer things filled him with more dreadful horror in this life than the idea of his children, _any_ one of them, being unhappy.

“Th-The baby… H-He…” The child finally spoke, her lower lip trembling, struggling to hold back her tears like only a true Saiyan would. “H-He…”

“Yes?” Vegeta carefully prodded, already dreading where this conversation was heading as his large hand delicately encircled the girl’s chin. As it turned out, Bulma had been right all along, and Bra’s sad emotions were connected somehow to her new baby brother.

“The new baby looks just like Papa…” Bra announced breathlessly, her chubby little fingers clasping her comb even tighter.

Vegeta scowled subtly, not fully understanding where the girl was going by making such an obvious statement. “He does. So…?”

“So, Bra…” She hesitated for a split second. “Bra wants to look like Papa too!”

“…”

His breath hitched in his throat, his lips pursing anxiously when he finally figured out where his daughter’s fears were stemming from. Now that Bulma had given him a son who looked just like him, Bra was dealing with feelings of self-doubt, perhaps even jealousy, and having all of those blasted guests in the house passing the little brat around and fussing over how _‘insanely cute’_ he was had only served to make matters worse.

The warrior knew just how deep his connection with his daughter run. Whilst his bond with Trunks had mostly been forged the Saiyan way, through hours and hours spent training together, it was with Bra that he’d discovered the small but unpredictably gratifying pleasures of a more human bonding. From the early days after her delivery, Bulma had happily taught him every single thing he needed to know on how to care for the little girl, from bottle feeding to night baths and bedtime stories. Small, menial chores that not long before the birth of Bra he would have found a complete and utter waste of time, ordinary responsibilities which were way below a Saiyan Prince like himself. Yet, much to his own surprise, Vegeta had grown to relish every single one of them, including the apparently unpleasant ones such as diaper changing, and he’d gladly agreed to share the great responsibility of raising the child with his wife, to the extent that he’d often arrange his schedule around his daughter’s needs, and their times together had become practically sacred to him by now.

“Bra…” He spoke softly, struggling, as he always did, to find just the right words to sooth and comfort the little brat. “Your new brother looks just like me, but that doesn’t… That doesn’t mean that I care about him any… Any more than I care about you…” Vegeta gently explained, his palms caressing the child’s pink cheeks as he looked her comfortingly in the eye, trying to make her comprehend that he loved every single one of his children equally.

“N-No!” Bra yelled, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head with an obstinacy that was secretly making her father proud. “Bra wants to look just like Papa! Just like Papa!”

Her small tears fell over the warrior’s thumbs, making for a heartbreaking sight indeed. Deep down, Vegeta knew that his daughter loved both of her parents just as much, and he’d certainly seen her hanging around Bulma’s laboratory more times than he could count, viewing the veneration in her eyes whenever his woman showed her one of her newest inventions, or narrated one of her old tales to her. But then there were moments when Bra’s compelling admiration towards him reached such unusually high levels that he feared that the little girl’s obsession with him would end up upsetting his wife. As much as he cherished the unbelievable adoration that Bra bestowed upon him, an adoration he hardly felt deserving of, he knew that this new fixation of hers would sadden his woman if she ever became privy of it.

“Bra…” He whispered once more, wiping the salty moisture off her smooth face with the back of his hand. “We need to get you showered. Your mother wants to see you…”

She brought her knees even closer to her chest, backing away from her father and shaking her head no, forcing the Saiyan to release her, exhaling a ragged breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

_Fatherhood wasn’t for the faint of heart, that much he knew…_

“Bra, your mother wishes to spend some time with you,” he revealed slowly, trying a different approach in order to lure the little girl. “If you don’t go to see her, you will make her very sad. Would you like to make your mother sad?” Vegeta asked, his voice filled with understanding.

Bra’s face quickly softened, her anger soon morphing into a poignant look of shame at the thought of possibly hurting her mom. She shook her head in denial, her sparkly eyes still brimming with fresh tears as she kept staring at her diminutive feet. But, even though guilt seemed to be finally doing the trick, it simply wasn’t enough for the Saiyan. He didn’t want his daughter to spend time with Bulma and the baby out of guilt, he was hoping for her to naturally embrace the new changes in their family, and to truly understand that she’d always have a special place in everyone’s heart, just as she always did.

Vegeta looked at the girl, deep in thought, for a moment, allowing the masterful tactician within him to ideate a new plan of action that would help him dispel his child’s insecurities. After careful deliberation, the ghost of an idea began to take shape in his mind, an extremely sentimental idea that would probably end up with him making an utter fool of himself, but which may help to make his daughter recognize an essential truth about Bulma. If the Prince had to bare his soul in front of anyone, he might as well do it in front of his little girl, for the sake of happily keeping his family together.       

“Bra,” he said at last, kindly resting his big hands atop of her naked feet. “If you let me shower you and wash your hair, I’ll tell you a secret…”

Her father’s enigmatic offer soon caught the child’s attention, for she coyly raised her gaze, looking at him through baby blue lashes, a sad frown still tainting her pretty face.

“A secret?” Bra asked in a shy voice, already wondering what that mysterious secret would be.

“A big secret,” Vegeta assured, nodding lightly in affirmation as he adoringly brushed her frail ankles with his thumbs. “But you must let me shower you and wash your hair first.”

The child’s girlish scowl deepened as she rapidly blinked in curiosity. There was no one on Earth more annoyingly snooping than Bra Briefs, and the prospect of a big secret revealed by none other than her Papa was proving to be too hard to resist.

“A big…? A big secret about Papa?”      

Vegeta’s lips struggled to stifle a triumphant smirk.

“A big secret about your mother and me…” He answered, an exhilarating promise hiding behind his warm words.

This final oath seemed to appease the child’s reservations, encouraging Bra to renounce to her original plans and follow her father’s directions.

“’Kay…” She mumbled with naiveté, stretching her small arms and tentatively offering the objects she’d been clutching possessively in her grasp all this time. Vegeta took them off her hands without hesitation, inwardly sighing in relief when he saw that Bra kept extending her arms to him long after her hands were empty in a silent plea for him to carry her, announcing that he’d earnt her trust once again.

“Saiyan promise, Papa?” Bra whispered in Vegeta’s ear once he had her in his arms, cleverly taking advantage of her father’s continuously grand proclamations about his race’s honor.

“Saiyan promise,” the Prince vowed with solemnity, thrilled by the little girl’s pride in her Saiyan heritage. He smiled fondly, that truthful, honest smile that he reserved exclusively for his family, tenderly brushing off the sticky mess that were Bra’s bangs as he walked them out of Trunks’ bedroom in search of his daughter’s.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…”

 

********************************************

 

Roughly half an hour later he was stepping outside of Bra’s adjacent bathroom and into her room, holding the freshly showered child, wrapped up in her peach colored bathrobe, in one arm and attempting to open one of her drawers with the other, looking for some clean pajamas for her.

“Which ones?” He asked simply, freely enabling her to take her pick. He had plenty of experience already with just how excruciatingly selective the child could be when it came to her odd choices of clothing, one of the few irritating qualities that she’d no doubt inherited from her mother.

“No, Papa! No!” Bra exclaimed stubbornly, clutching the neck of his shirt just a little tighter.

Vegeta couldn’t hide his disbelief at her strange disapproval. Seeing how he was usually the one bathing her at night, he was used by now to their almost nightly routine, and carefully choosing her nightwear was always the next step in their cozy ritual.

“No pajamas?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow as he offered her a curious side glance.

“Nuh-uh! No, Papa! The secret!” She demanded, her tiny fists anxiously shaking his clothing with startling force. “The secret! The secret first, Papa!”  

The Prince smirked perceptively at her. As it turned out, her bothersome pickiness when it came to choosing her attires was not the only quality she’d acquired from her ingenious mother. He’d learnt long ago that Bra was also in possession of the terrifying power to bend him to her will just as skillfully as Bulma could. A power he’d futilely tried to resist with all his might once upon a time, but which he’d agreed to become a victim to long ago with good grace. He may have tried to bicker or argue with his woman every now and then, just for the wicked pleasure of seeing her losing her legendary temper like in the good old days, but he’d also learnt, almost too late, that surrendering to those he loved was not a weakness but a strength, the truest test of courage and power that he’d ever faced.       

“All right…” He sighed wearily, already moving towards the bed and sitting on it, right in the middle of a colorful mountain of stuffed animals. He placed the child on his strong thigh, pulling her closer to him in a shielding hug, overjoyed to find her much more relaxed after a warm shower.

“The secret, Papa…” Bra pleaded enthusiastically, playfully poking him repeatedly on his chest with her minuscule fists as her short legs swung in excitement.

“All right…” Vegeta repeated, trying to find just the right words in spite of already having the conviction that he’d look like a mushy idiot in the end, either way. “So… Remember…? Remember how I told you about my Space travels?”     

The little girl nodded vivaciously at that.

“Uh-huh…”

_She remembered._

By this time, Vegeta had already shared numerous stories about his exploits in Space with her. Innumerable picturesque tales about the many multi-colored worlds he’d visited during his time serving in his old Master’s army. Needless to say, the Prince had expertly omitted the most gruesome details, choosing to focus on detailed descriptions of the vastly different planets and races he’d encountered instead. His daughter knew that he was a fighter, and a tremendously powerful one at that, but there was absolutely no need for him to expose her to the darkest side of the Universe yet. The warrior knew that someday, when Bra was mature enough to understand certain aspects of his character, he’d have to sit down and unveil a part of his existence which now felt almost like another life to him. But, until then, the warrior would fight with everything within his power in order to preserve his children’s much treasured innocence for as long as he could.

“Good,” Vegeta muttered in fatherly approval. “Bra, did I ever tell you about how many people I met while I was in Space?”

His affable question was met with a negative when the wide-eyed child shook her head at him, thoroughly captivated by her Papa’s story.

“Hundreds of thousands of people, Bra…” The Saiyan gravely whispered, bringing his face near hers for emphasis, trying to make her appreciate just how many different beings he’d met during his tempestuous past life. “Do you know how many people that is?”

Bra remained silent for an instant as she tried to recall her mother’s lessons. Bulma had already started to take care of her education, and even though the little brat’s mathematical knowledge was still extremely limited, she had a really good idea of exactly just how many people her father was referring to.

“A lot!” She answered self-assuredly, looking pretty pleased with herself.

Vegeta couldn’t restrain the hint of a proud smile invading his lips at the confident reply of his only daughter.

“That’s right. That’s a lot of people, Bra…” He stated softly, his strong arms narrowing around her, pulling her small body even closer and taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for his confession. “And here’s the big secret, Bra…” The Prince spoke in a confidentially low voice. “Out of all the people I’ve met in my life, your mother’s the only one I ever chose to spend my life with. The only one for me…”

He waited patiently for his vital words to gradually sink in, hoping that Bra’s young mind would possess enough awareness to discern the deeper meaning hiding behind them. Against all odds, and in spite of his utterly embarrassing inability to verbally express his emotions, the dazed child seemed to be smartly unraveling the importance of what he’d just revealed to her.

“Mama…?” She questioned timidly, tipping her head to the side as she stared at her father with childish astonishment. “Mama’s the only one for Papa?”

“The only one…” Vegeta confirmed, his tanned cheeks unwittingly flushing crimson at the intimate implications of his confession.

“Mama’s the only one…” Bra whispered breathlessly again, her little mouth curling into the most adorable “O”, gasping in fascination when she finally made sense of her place within her father’s revelation.

_The only one._

In all of his voyages, out of all the inestimable amount of people her father had encountered in the countless, exotic worlds that he’d visited and described in colorful detail to her, her mother had been the _chosen_ one, the only one good enough for him to share his life with.

“And Bra looks just like Mama…” The amazed child muttered in awe.

He run his rugged fingers across her still damp hair with doting tenderness, his hand so large in comparison to her minuteness, reminding him of just how vulnerable Bra still was, and always would be, in his paternal eyes. 

“Just like Mama…” Vegeta whispered in agreement, gently petting her blue tresses as he gazed at her with painful fondness.

_It was the truth._

His little girl was Bulma’s living image in every sense.

Not only had she inherited that pair of ethereal eyes, her mother’s mesmerizingly beautiful turquoise hair and that radiant skin that made them both look at times like exquisite porcelain dolls. Vegeta could see his wife’s spirit in the child, in her charming mannerisms and innate thirst for knowledge, in the way they both smiled in pure bliss as they shared a bowl of their beloved strawberries while sitting in the garden, and in an already strong personality that hid a heart of pure gold beneath their gripping stubbornness. If there was someone who should inspire his dazzling daughter, the one person she should look up to and whose footsteps deserved to be followed, that was Bulma Briefs, without a doubt.

Because Bulma was his rock, the one who’d opened his stupidly blind eyes to a world whose existence had always been denied to someone like him. The only one who’d given him a chance when he was nothing more to the others than an outsider, a merciless assassin with nowhere to go. His brilliant wife had been the one to teach him the most valuable lesson of them all, that life was a journey not meant to be travelled alone, an odyssey infinitely happier when spent with someone walking by your side, a tough woman who’d stood by him through thick and thin with a firm hold in his hand, showering him with unconditional love even at times when he didn’t deserve it, those hellish days in which he’d foolishly strayed from the right path until he’d seen the light, once and for all.

His old self, the smugly egotistical bastard who’d once held grandiose dreams of world domination and eternal life, would have adored having a child who looked exactly like him, another Vegeta to proudly carry on the bloodline of the Royal House of Vegeta. But the man that he was today was a different man altogether, a devoted father who loved nothing more than to see a piece of his woman’s soul in every single one of his children. And, even though at heart he prayed not to ever lose the overwhelming esteem that Bra seemed to inexplicably profess towards him, he had no greater desire than for her to admire her mother above every other living creature, and to cherish and respect the unmeasurable value that her influence had in their lives.       

“Papa! Papa!” Bra exclaimed in exhilaration, folding her little arms around his neck in an infantile attempt at getting his attention and awakening him from his reverie.

“Hm?”

“Let’s go see Mama now…” She whispered merrily in his ear.

Vegeta glimpsed at his girl, absolutely ecstatic to discover the huge grin adorning her face and the eagerness in her voice.

“Good,” he merely responded, securing Bra in his muscular arms as he stood from the bed, proceeding to stroll to the door.

“No, Papa! No!” Bra puckered all of a sudden, newly shaking up her already exhausted father.

“What now?” Vegeta sighed heavily.

Bra offered him another one of those beaming smiles, one of those which could illuminate an entire room, pointing to the drawer with a plump little finger.

“Pajamas first!” 

 

********************************************

 

Vegeta had half-expected his wife to be already asleep by the time they made it to her room, but he was taken by surprise when he found Bulma still awake, albeit barely so. She was sitting on the king-sized bed, right where he’d left her when he’d gone in search of Bra, and even though she was done feeding their infant, she was still holding the sleeping child in her arms, watching him through weary but enraptured eyes.

“Hey…” She whispered softly, smiling tiredly at her new visitors as soon as she noticed their presence. “There you are…”

The Prince deposited his delicate daughter at the foot of the bed, allowing her to crawl freely in her mother’s direction, and he walked to the convertible couch situated on the other side of their bedroom, staggered to encounter his oldest son completely immersed in a deep slumber. Vegeta had sensed a while ago that their guests had parted from their home, and he was pretty sure that Trunks would have chosen to spend the night at Goten’s as he often did but, as it turned out, the lavender-haired boy was positively becoming a young man with a greater sense of responsibility.

“He wanted to keep an eye on us while you were gone…” Bulma quietly explained, her heart melting at the sight of her husband lovingly covering up her sleeping son with a blanket. The boy was now taller than Vegeta, but the Saiyan had long ago welcomed that foreign emotion that made him feel is if his children would always be little brats to him.

“Mama! Mama!” Bra whispered excitedly, kneeling by her mother’s side and literally throwing herself in her arms, making Bulma now struggle with carefully holding baby Vegeta in one arm while hugging her daughter with the other.

“Aw, sweetie… Come here…” The heiress mumbled against her child’s wet hair, kissing it indulgently as she inhaled its freshly cleaned scent. “Did Papa wash your hair?” She asked in the sweetest voice, still keeping her arm wrapped around her tiny form, rubbing her back soothingly as she looked at her with adoration. Her smile grew when the little girl proudly nodded in assent. “That’s nice… Your Papa is a really good Papa, isn’t he?”

Bra grinned exultantly at her mother’s affirmation. “Yah!” She happily replied, her small arms tightening around Bulma’s neck. The child pressed her fleshy cheek against her mother’s, finally taking a good look at the black-haired baby boy peacefully sleeping in Bulma’s arms, and blissfully ignorant of the playful look of mischief that the scientist was now throwing in her husband’s direction. For all of his grandiloquent speeches about his colossal strength and Saiyan pride, it was almost amusing to see the sheer embarrassment in the warrior’s face whenever he was the recipient of any kind of compliment from his woman regarding his unpredictably impressive skills as a father and husband. He’d always close his eyes and frown irritatingly, blushing like a schoolboy who’d just been praised for something he didn’t believe himself to be actually good at.      

“Are you done feeding the boy?” Vegeta inquired in a husky tone, standing cross-armed by his wife’s side. He’d been keeping a close eye on the debilitated woman ever since he’d taken care of Trunks, knowing that she’d most definitely been forcing herself to stay awake until he returned with Bra, concerned about the child’s well-being.

“I am,” Bulma quietly agreed. “I was just about to put him in his crib…”

“I will,” Vegeta simply responded, more a command than a question at this point. The woman was putting on a brave show, but he could tell that she was about to fall asleep any minute now, and he didn’t want her to make any unnecessary efforts.

He leant towards them, already extending his arms and ready to take the boy from his wife’s hold, but her silky voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Bra, don’t you want to give your baby brother a goodnight kiss?” Bulma whispered in her child’s ear, noticing the unusual interest her daughter had been staring at the napping child with.

Bra’s eyes met her mother’s, her babyish reservations written all over her rounded little face. Ever since baby Vegeta had been born, she’d avoided to touch the kid in any way, the main reason being the abnormal surge of jealousy taking control of her, even before the child’s actual birth, but also because he looked so small, yet so remarkably similar to her larger than life father, that she didn’t quite know how to feel about him. But her Papa had finally appeased her doubts today, promising her that there was nothing to fret about, nothing to fear, so, after a few moments of childish deliberation and a tiny squeeze of encouragement from Bulma, Bra decided at last that the time had come for her to interact with her new sibling.

“’Kay…” She replied in a hushed sound. Her arms hesitantly let go of her Mama’s neck, her warm breath hoovering over the newborn’s face as she positioned her minute hands atop of Bulma’s thighs. Bra laid a fond, lingering kiss on her brother’s rosy cheek, even going as far as allowing herself to take a chance and run her short fingers all over the cute tuft of fluffy black hair in his head. Her gaze remained on him a bit longer, quietly analyzing him through those big, naïve eyes of hers. She then turned to Bulma in silent search for approval, instantly earning a contagiously bright smile from her more than relieved mother in return.

“Can I take him now?” Vegeta quietly interjected after having witnessed the emotional scene, fearing that seeing his only daughter interacting with a new baby in the house would turn him into a bigger sentimental idiot than he already was.

“Here, honey…” His wife uttered in compliance.

Bulma offered the child to her husband, wholly trusting that he knew what to do by now. She’d always been attracted to his superhuman strength, his perfect body, and that inscrutable charisma that would take a lifetime to fully decipher, but never did he look more attractive to her, more deserving of her love than during those private moments at home where he’d let his guard down just for her and their children. Vegeta wasn’t born a family man, he’d become one. And even though it’d been a sinuous journey indeed, a wild ride full of ups and downs, of decisive tests and horribly painful disappointments, joy had always overcome sorrow, and she wouldn’t change the man she’d chosen to spend the rest of her life with, the father of her children, for all the riches in the world.

“Mama… Mama…” The little girl whispered again, her energetic fists lively pulling one of Bulma’s sleeves, eagerly begging for some of her attentions.

The heiress was totally drained by now, but despite the fact that Bra seemed to be in greater spirits, she could tell that something big had transpired between the child and Vegeta. They’d both been gone for far too long, and she could have sworn that she’d caught a glimpse of her daughter’s grief before she’d secretively disappeared from a room filled with people before, so she couldn’t deny her little girl a few more minutes of her time tonight.

“Come here…” Bulma spoke, opening her arms invitingly and trapping her in a snug embrace when Bra keenly crawled on top of her, sitting on her thighs while her mother cradled her as if she were just as young as her baby brother. The scientist knew that her daughter was growing frighteningly fast, but she’d always be her little girl to her, a child who deserved to know how wonderfully special she was to both of her parents.

“Mama…” Bra susurrated zealously again, her eyes meeting her mother’s as she brought her lithe body against hers. “The new baby looks just like Papa, right?”

“Right…”

“And Bra… Bra looks just like Mama… Right, Mama?”

Bulma briefly contemplated her daughter’s words. It’d always been fairly self-evident to everyone just how unbelievably similar their appearance was, a similarity that went far beyond a purely physical one, but something in the expectant gleam swimming behind Bra’s ingenuous gaze told her that there was a new meaning hiding in the girl’s question, as if her future reply were of utmost significance to her.

“You do…” Bulma answered in a hushed whisper, playfully nuzzling her child’s nose with her own. “Just like Mama…”

Bra’s petite body vibrated against hers when she burst in gleeful giggles, sending a rush of pure joy to her mother’s heart. If her Mama was the only woman in the entire Universe good enough to be chosen by her darling Papa, then sharing many of her qualities with her could only be something to be proud of.

“Bra,” a masculine voice called right behind her, making the little girl turn around with nosiness, only to find her father sitting on the bed with both of them. “Come with me. Let’s get you to bed…”

“Nuh-uh! Bra wants to stay with Mama!” Bra cried at once, hiding her cute little face in the crook of Bulma’s neck as she greedily tightened her hold on her. 

Vegeta let out a tired breath, proceeding to pacifyingly rub his child’s back. It’d certainly been an intense, long day, and it was time for all of them to get some rest.

“Bra…” He pleaded meekly again. “Your mother needs to get some rest. Come on, let’s get you to…”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Bulma’s calming voice interrupted. Her hand reached out to his, reverently interlacing her fingers with her husband’s and blessing him with one of those smiles overflowing with warmth and understanding, one of those he never even knew existed until their paths crossed. His woman didn’t fully comprehend the reason behind her daughter’s enigmatic elation, all she knew was that she didn’t want this oddly magical moment to end.

“Bra can stay with us tonight. She’ll be really quiet while Mama gets some rest, right Bra?”

As soon as their child nodded in acceptance, the Prince assisted his wife in lying down comfortably on the bed, joining her by her side and covering them all up with the thick duvet, settling their daughter right between them and switching the bedside lamps off. Bulma rolled on her side facing him, smiling with pleasure into the night when little Bra curled up against her, grasping a handful of her silk pajamas, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists while her breathing gradually slowed down as sleep overcame her.

 _“Mama’s the only one…”_ Bra whispered drowsily in the dark, clear enough for Bulma to hear her mysterious statement and for Vegeta to thank the Gods that his wife’s weak human senses were unable to notice the flustered blush reaching up to his ears.

The Saiyan brought his calloused hand to his woman’s cheek, affectionately caressing the warmth that was Bulma. She blinked dozily in the dark, her languid smile never leaving her lips even when they found the palm of his hand, placing a painfully tender kiss on it before her heavy eyelids slowly shut down and she finally lost her rowdy battle against exhaustion.

Vegeta got even nearer to his two favorite women, draping a solid arm around them and bringing them close to his heart. He closed his worn eyes, a tight knot burning in his throat, that chillingly familiar feeling that always engulfed him when nighttime came and he embarked on his singular nocturnal ritual, focusing his senses all around him as he made sure that his loved ones were completely safe from harm.   

He sensed Trunks sleeping soundly on the couch. A fine young man who was almost an adult by now, a son who’d made him proud more times than he was willing to admit, his ki burning bright and strong, almost as strong as his own, a brave boy with an untainted heart who would surpass him someday in more ways than one.

He felt Bra sleeping right beside him, her light body small and balmy, her assuaging scent permeating his senses, so much like her mother’s that it hurt. She smelled of hopeful dreams and something golden, an unspoiled purity that needed to be preserved at all costs.

He picked up on the tiny child dreaming in his crib, familiarizing himself with his essence, a new life, a gentle sparkle of faith and glowing optimism.

And above them all, he thought of _her_.

_His Bulma._

The woman who’d changed it all.

A resplendent, guiding light who’d brought meaning into a life where there used to be none, the one who was both sweetness and zest, water and fire, the only one with the power to stand in front of a thousand possible paths and always choose the right one, the one who’d made him have trust in a new existence.

The Prince took a deep breath and surrendered, letting himself go and willingly joining his family in the land of dreams.

_No, parenthood wasn’t for the faint of heart, but having a woman like Bulma Briefs by his side could make a man believe that he’d make it…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there it is!
> 
> I love writing about Veggie as a father, but I wanted to give Bulma some love as a mom too.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading, as always!


	7. Strawberry Syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Trunks fall prey to a very unpleasant human disease, leaving poor Bulma in charge of taking care of two very, very stubborn Saiyan boys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I'm already working on my new chapter of "Yellow Roses", but I decided to take a little break, and take care of a prompt that a lovely anon left in the inbox of my writing blog.
> 
> I hope you like it!

** 9\. Strawberry Syrup **

 

** Anonymous asked: Hi! I do happen to have a prompt in mind. I don’t see very many Vegebul family sick fics around and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a swing at it (Maybe two people in the family being sick? Bra and Vegeta, Trunks and Bulma etc...) Hope it’s not too much trouble and if you do happen to take this into consideration please take your time **

 

Vegeta stirred uneasily on the bed, trying to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep after a long, restless night tossing and turning amongst sweaty bedsheets, sickly consumed by the worst bout of fever he’d suffered from in longer than he could recall.

He groaned in drained exasperation, rolling tiredly on his side and briefly losing the covers, bothered by a sudden rush of heat coursing his exhausted body, only to quickly pull them back on him after a mere few seconds, feebly overwhelmed by the cool morning air chilling his clammy body to the bone.

Humiliating.

_That’s what it was._

It was utterly humiliating for someone like him, a veteran Saiyan warrior who’d explored, conquered and, more often than not, entirely annihilated, countless faraway galaxies, to end up succumbing to the irritating symptoms of some degradingly insignificant disease in the striking backwater planet that he now called home.

Worst of all was the fact that he’d relentlessly teased his little mate when she’d also suffered from this so-called _‘flu’_ less than two weeks earlier, undermining the severity of the weakness she claimed to ache from. When she’d spent several days curled up in bed under the covers, wanting nothing more than to lie there indefinitely, and demanding to be cuddled, way more often than usual, in those mushy hugs that she was so fond of, he’d truly believed her to have been exaggerating, or for her natural build to be much weaker than he’d originally imagined it to be.

As always, he’d eagerly indulged her, mostly because he’d secretly grown to enjoy his woman’s sentimental displays of affection far too much for his own good, even though he’d constantly chastise her in his own grouchy way for her sappy needs. But, also, because his legendary, oversized ego had made him stupidly believe that he was far too strong, too resilient to fall prey to such an embarrassingly minor disease.

_He’d been wrong._

He’d been so deadly wrong that all it’d taken was roughly four days of cold sweats, fever-induced hallucinations, and every single goddamned bone in the lethal machine that was his body feeling as if they were being shattered to death by Frieza himself, to make him believe that, if his own son from the future hadn’t killed his old Master back when he’d first landed on Earth, this blasted _‘flu’_ business would have surely done the job.

What he hated the most was knowing that he wasn’t the only victim of such a foul virus, and that the other poor, unfortunate soul to catch the debilitating disease was none other than his eleven-month-old son. And, even though the little brat was half-Saiyan, and Vegeta held the certainty that the boy’s life wasn’t in danger, the very thought of his child experiencing the same kind of Hell he was going through right now, filled him with a foreign sense of concern, that rare, protective emotion implacably taking hold of him ever since his woman had stepped into his lonesome existence. 

Vegeta moaned in feverish agony, rolling on his back once again, not even knowing what to do with himself anymore, or how to make the soreness enervating his every muscle go away for good. One heavy arm fell sloppily over his tired eyes, trying to escape the faint rays of sunlight still sneaking inside the room, in spite of Bulma’s thoughtful efforts to close the curtains early in the morning, doing her best to assist him in getting some much-needed rest.

“Hey, sleepyhead…” A soft voice whispered after a few minutes dozing on and off in the dark, so selfishly focused on his own discomfort that his usually sharp senses failed to notice the dainty steps walking on the cushiony carpet in his direction, or the way the mattress shifted slightly when his mate sat by his side. “How are you feeling?” Bulma asked kindly, clear concern in her voice, and the gentlest hand caressing his moist forehead, her touch sending shivers of something forbidden down his spine.  

He responded with a distant grunt and a cranky scowl, grudgingly uncovering his eyes and hating himself for both enjoying and drowning in guilt by that girlish look of worry floating in her brilliant blue eyes, so utterly disturbing indeed, that he ended up sternly avoiding her gaze, blushing like an adolescent and letting his foolish pride take control, just like he always did, sitting wearily on the bed while trying to conceal his pain, and doing a pretty lousy job at it.

“That bad, uh?” She asked knowingly, making Vegeta’s self-hatred grow in leaps and bounds when he detected no hint of reproach or playfulness in her tone, despite the appalling truth that he hadn’t taken her as seriously as he should have back when she’d been the one being ill. “Well, actually, I’ve got something that might help…” Bulma proudly announced, the hand that had just stroked his heated brow now reaching for the cap of the tiny bottle she’d brought with her this time, holding it in her other hand with great care.

“What?” The Saiyan asked dryly, eyeing the small item with great suspicion the minute his acute sense of smell detected a waft of something foreign and medicinal, definitely not of natural origin.

“It’s strawberry syrup,” the earthling patiently explained, reaching for the large tablespoon quietly sitting on the nightstand, now that she’d skillfully removed the bottle’s lid. “It’ll make you feel better, you’ll see…”

Vegeta’s wary reaction didn’t take long. “Strawberry?” He immediately cut her off, black coal eyes squinting in distrust, nostrils flaring, obviously sickened by the revoltingly synthetic odor coming out of the flask.

“Yeah, strawberry,” she answered vaguely, failing to notice her mate’s defensive attitude with her fatigued eyes concentrating on reading the medicine’s detailed instructions.

“Hmph!” The warrior scoffed in disbelief, crossing his arms defensively in front of his sweaty chest while struggling to keep in check the stomach-turning wave of nausea suddenly overpowering him. “I _highly_ doubt it…” He retorted in a hoarse, inflexible tone, well acquainted by now with Earth’s wide variety of juicy fruits, certainly enough to know that there was no way that that ghastly potion contained strawberries in any shape or form.

His skeptical statement caught Bulma’s attention. “Uh?” She questioned, reddened eyes glancing at the grumpy Saiyan barely sited on the bed, then back to the tinted bottle, and back at him. “Oh, right…” She whispered distractedly, finally understanding where Vegeta’s issues stemmed from. And the Gods be damned, she _smiled_ at him, one of those darned smiles of understanding she’d always throw at him whenever she noted the innumerable cultural barriers still separating them. “Well, it’s just a medicine, you know?” She gently clarified. “There are no real strawberries in this, it’s just a flavor they put in it to make it taste better, and…”

“No,” Vegeta interrupted her, inwardly berating himself for sounding far colder than he’d intended to. After all, the woman’s intentions were as pure as ever, his only issue being that he simply refused to stoop so low as to resort to ingesting some primitive, artificially-flavored medicine to be able to cope with something as insignificant as a common virus.

“No?” Bulma frowned in confusion, one look at her man making her already dread where this conversation would end. “What do you mean? Why…?”

“I said no,” he denied her anew, his body icy, sheepish gaze stubbornly avoiding hers, lost in the grey morning barely discerned through the thick curtains hanging from the bedroom’s massive windows. “I will _not_ take it.”     

The woman’s face instantly fell in sad disappointment, yet she refused to back down, doing her best to remain positive, regardless of the obstinately grouchy man who seemed to get a kick out of behaving like a fully-grown baby, at times like this.

“Aw, Vegeta… Come on…” She insisted sweetly, small, velvety fingertips testing his resolve by caressing one of his inflexibly crossed arms with a kindness far greater than he deserved right now. “I know the taste is not very nice, but it has some paracetamol in it, and it will help with the fever, you’ll see… If you just…”

“No.”

_“…”_

 

A fleeting silence perturbed the dim room, one of those painfully uncomfortable silences they both knew too well by now, like the most unnerving calm preceding a wild storm, a hurricane of passionate, bittersweet instants they’d become shamefully addicted to, fighting like cats and dogs, and making up with just as much fervor, a poisonously addictive chemistry that didn’t even belong to this world, always coming back for more, _more_ , making it virtually impossible for both lovers to stay apart from each other for too long. 

The Prince had half-expected her to start yelling, to bitterly bicker at him, pushing, forcing him to take care of himself, to walk away from that vicious cycle of self-destruction that was like second nature to him.

Instead, the ballsy woman surprised him, yet again, refusing to engage in some pointless confrontation and giving up on him almost instantaneously, making him feel just a little colder when she took her soothing touch away, wasting no time in putting the small cap back on the medicinal bottle and standing resignedly from the bed, without even gifting him with a second look.

“Fine, Vegeta,” Bulma sighed with exhaustion, an unmistakable air of disenchantment lacing her fading voice. “Suit yourself…” She spat out in a murmur, already walking away, away from _him_ , carrying that vile syrup in one pale hand, while massaging the back of her tense neck with the other, only taking mercy on him when she reached the closed door, giving him one last glance as she opened it. “I already have one sick child to take care of, you know?” She reminded him, a vicious rush of remorse savagely punching him _right_ in his already nauseous gut when she spoke of the crying infant she’d been tending to, day and night, for the past four days. “I don’t need another one…”

She shut the door behind her with excruciating mildness, turning the room to ice with her unexpected absence, and with the faint sounds to those relaxed but determined steps, vanishing across the hallway as she went in search of the young demi-Saiyan whose sickly sobs he could already discern through the electronic device which Bulma had installed in her own nightstand, that diabolical _‘baby monitor’_ he’d literally wanted to blast to pieces more than once, during those long, _long_ nights, when his child refused to fall asleep when he was supposed to.

Vegeta collapsed on the plush pillows with a piercing groan, stinging muscles filled with broken glass. He should be happy, he should be feeling absolutely ecstatic about his little morning victory, successfully getting rid of the woman, her exasperating overprotectiveness, and her rotten human remedies. But, instead, all he felt was powerlessness, incapable of shaking off that unsettling emotion consuming him, every darned time, whenever he realized that he’d treated his new life mate like the heartless bastard he truly knew himself to be.

 

_Idiot._

He was an idiot.

_‘He should have just taken the wretched medicine…’_

 

The Prince shut his eyes tightly once more, breaking into a raspy fit of coughing when he inhaled a lungful of air much too large for his drained lungs to take, lying helplessly limp on the ruffled bedsheets as he drowned in cold sweat, feeling as if he were about to kick the bucket any minute now.    

_“Hi, sweetie…”_ Bulma’s melodic voice echoed through the child’s monitor, that pleasant, maternal tone reserved for her child alone and, at times, for her crabby Saiyan mate as well, whenever she resorted to her coquettish charms to bend him to her will. _“How is my little Super Saiyan doing today?”_ She softly cooed, her sugary words stealing the faintest smirk from Vegeta’s lips, who was now curiously listening to his woman’s interactions with the surprisingly mellow brat, even though he should be probably curling up under the covers and trying to get some sleep right now. _“Alright… Mama will take your temperature now…”_

The warrior followed with amused interest the distant sounds of Bulma’s steps as she walked across the room in search of a thermometer, followed by a short-lived silence while checking the boy’s condition, and some unintelligible mumbling of disapproval.

It was ironic, Vegeta thought uncomfortably to himself, just how ridiculously fascinated, even concerned, he’d grown to be about both the gorgeous female who’d started off as nothing more than a pleasurable distraction, and that lavender-haired little cub they’d never even planned to conceive to begin with.

Mere months ago, long before the life-changing humiliation of his defeat at the Cell Games took place, he would have never envisioned such a peaceful existence for himself. And, even though there were still times when he found himself crippled by venomous self-doubt, wondering if he’d ever be able to fully turn into the devoted family man that his mate secretly wished him to be, he couldn’t deny any longer that the comforting presence of Bulma and Trunks had been crucial in his slow but steady recovery from the debilitating depression taunting him still, from time to time, even to this day.

_“Aw, Baby…”_ The earthling exhaled jadedly, the clear dissatisfaction in her tone revealing that the brat’s fever hadn’t remitted yet. _“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart… Mama brought something for you…”_

Vegeta’s sharp eyebrows furrowed in concern; learning of his son’s still high fever had already instilled enough apprehension in him, but the mental image of Bulma attempting to feed that repellent medicine, all by herself, to a child who shared his overdeveloped sense of smell, was beginning to sound like a very poor idea.

_“Alright… Come here, Baby Boy…”_ Bulma’s affectionate voice spoke to the child again, letting the Prince hear the sounds of Trunks’ crib creaking as she picked him up, then more feminine steps, pacing through the colorful nursery until she took a sit on the baby blue rocking chair where she used to patiently breastfeed her newborn son, during his early months of life.

What followed next was a string of soft words of encouragement, and the brat’s infantile babble, with the young mother doing her best to convince her boy to take his cure, and Trunks categorically refusing to do so.

The intensity of the exchange grew to dangerous levels and, before he knew it, Vegeta was eavesdropping on a dejectedly frustrated woman and a screeching little monster crying and hollering as if he were about to get murdered, culminating in a loud slap, and the terrifying sounds of something crashing and breaking into the ground.

_“Shit!”_ Bulma yelped in direct response. _“Oh, Gods…”_

The strident noises, and her startling swearing, made the Prince’s hair stand on end, giving him that final push to gather whatever remained of his strength and get him off the bed, dragging his battered body out of the marital room and in search of his family.

Now that his boy was about to start talking, Bulma had begged Vegeta to make the effort to watch his language around him, warning him about how easily children could pick up on all sorts of colorful language, and he knew that something positively dreadful must have happened to make his woman lose control like that in front of Trunks.

All it took was one look at the chaotic nursery to make him grasp that _‘dreadful’_ couldn’t even begin to describe the pandemonium blowing up in the typically quiet place.

In the back of the room, his son was sitting inside his expensive crib, his pastel yellow onesie fully covered in that horrid human medicine, crying bloody murder while looking fixedly at the private bathroom located inside the chamber, obviously seeking the attention of the mother whose ki Vegeta could clearly detect by now as if it were his own.

“Bulma?” He called tentatively, already stepping into the place, prudently avoiding the mayhem of broken glass and spilled crimson syrup spreading all over the light carpet casing the floors.

“Y-Yeah?” The earthling shyly answered from inside the adjacent room, after a few awkward seconds. “You shouldn’t be here, Vegeta,” she chastised him when she sensed his figure by the bathroom’s door, her voice abashed, _kind_ , a great deal kinder than he deserved. “You should be in bed…” She berated him, her eyes still evading his as she stared at the ground, drying off the frustrated tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her silken robe.

She was right, and still, all Vegeta could do was stand perfectly immobile in his spot, impotent to take his eyes off the small figure hopelessly sitting at the edge of that small bathtub, filled to the brim with flamboyant toys, taking in those eyes red from crying, and the few loose strands escaping her tiny ponytail as she adjusted her now stained clothing, walking towards the door with worn-out steps, ready to face her son again.

At times such as this, it was hard not to admire her enthusiastic dedication, for a woman like Bulma Briefs, with her wealth and means, could have any help at her disposal, yet she was choosing to care for him and their son on her own, even though her fatigue was now fully palpable.   

“Bulma…” Vegeta muttered, his brain foggy, barely able to stand on his feet, but refusing to let her have to deal with their rebellious little boy on her own, for reasons he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He wasn’t cut out for this _‘family life’_ nonsense and he knew it, but the damned woman, with her ludicrously sentimental expectations, and those sad blue eyes beaming at him, sometimes succeeded in fooling him into believing that, one far day, he may perhaps end up becoming the noble man she needed him to be.

“Don’t, Vegeta…” She cautioned tiredly, eyeing the firm but gentle hand smoothly holding her wrist when she tried to walk past him. “Just don’t!” She warned him while attempting to pull away from his unnervingly tender touch, showing that she was still mad at him for behaving like an immature man-child not that long ago. “I’m _not_ in the mood for this right now,” Bulma murmured, heaving a sigh of defeat when he stubbornly refused to let go of her. “It’s bad enough that you’re acting like an idiot, but now I can’t even get my own son to take the stupid syrup!” She fretted in an angry whisper, keeping her voice down to stop her child from overhearing her cussing.

“Bulma,” the Saiyan pleaded one more time, his demeanor oddly calm as he fought to ignore the sickening way in which the room kept spinning around him. “Do you have any more of that medicine?”

An unspoken offer lay behind his unexpected words, an offer never pronounced before by someone like him, leaving her at a loss for words. “Yeah…” She replied in a tiny murmur, her troubled expression softening into an enthralled look of awe.

“Then bring it to me,” his simple demand came at last, his sturdy fingers unwrapping themselves from her wrist when Bulma replied with an unusually shy nod of assent.

His attentive gaze followed her movements as she walked to the medicine cabinet to retrieve a second bottle of the nasty potion, a part of him swallowing one of those pompous smirks that flared up whenever he succeeded in confusing her, and an even greater part of him loathing himself for being a real bastard from Hell, a man so dishonorably egotistical that the mere thought of him assisting his own mate in helping her care for their only child, was enough to completely bowl his woman over.

When the bottom of the glass bottle gingerly touched his open palm, Vegeta’s fingers closed around it with utmost care, stepping aside and letting Bulma walk back into the nursery first, following humbly, right behind her, as she got to Trunks’ crib, holding the boy in the safety of her arms and sitting with him back on the rocking chair, carefully accommodating him in her lap.

“How many?” Vegeta asked with astounding serenity, kneeling on the soft carpet, at his woman’s feet, while reaching for the large tablespoon laying forgotten on the small side table nearby. Every single muscle in his powerful body _hurt_ , as if he’d just been on the receiving end of one of those brutal poundings his old Master loved to inflict upon him.

“He… He can’t… We can’t use the spoon with him yet, Vegeta,” She stuttered in a stunned whisper, still in wild disbelief at her man making the effort to help her care for their little boy, especially when it was obvious that the Prince was still sick as a dog. “We need to use the…”        

“I mean for me, Bulma,” he quietly clarified, raven eyes riveted on hers, sparkling with the rarest intensity, as if he were sharing the most intimate of his secrets with her, a side of him that only the little brat and herself would ever be privy to. “How many do _I_ need to take?”

“Oh! _Right_ …” She gasped softly, pretty mouth curling in adorable surprise. “You… You need to take three spoonfuls…”  

Vegeta didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink an eye when he cautiously unsealed the bottle, removing the cap and turning his sights on the sniffling baby comfortably secured under the protection of his mother’s embrace. The little boy’s face was now half-resting on Bulma’s bosom, his babyish expression still unsure, but noticeably calmer than before, side-eyeing his father’s every move with naïve curiosity.

“Trunks,” the Prince uttered gently, grabbing his son’s attention without much trouble.

Even though the Prince hadn’t yet begun Trunks’ training, and his emotional interactions with the child were still limited, the boy had quickly grown to feel, not only astoundingly comfortable in his presence, but to also somehow develop a dreamy sense of fascination towards his father, a fascination that Vegeta was planning to cleverly use to his advantage today.      

“Look at me, boy…” he demanded in a low undertone, already filling the tablespoon to the top with the blasted syrup, making sure the child understood that his father was about to ingest exactly the same medicine his mother had previously offered to him.

Vegeta took spoonful after spoonful of that unnaturally tasting poison, swallowing his beloved Saiyan pride, right at the same time as he swallowed such vile substance, and summoning every ounce of willpower to keep a straight face as he did so.

“Did you see that, boy?” He patiently asked, flaunting the empty spoon at his son, before casually depositing it atop the side table and taking hold of the sticky, almost-empty oral syringe resting on it. “Now it’s your turn…”

He handed the syringe to Bulma, holding the bottle uncomplainingly in front of her as she filled it up with just the right amount of medicine, noticing her trembling hands, and the way she kept chewing on her inner cheek to stop the tears already pooling in her eyes from falling, deeply moved by her man’s generosity.

She was easy to please, that was for sure, so damn easy that he detested himself even harder for not being open enough to have such gracious gestures towards her and the brat more often.

“Here…” She murmured kindly, trusting him with the syrup once again. “You have to put it in his mouth, but not too deep, and press the plunger slowly,” she explained, her hold tightening around her baby boy, shifting him slightly to make him face his father with greater ease. “And you need to be careful not to spill it…”

Trunks’ little pudgy face grimaced in disgust as soon as the first few drops touched his tongue, yet, against all odds, he endured it, clutching his mother’s robe with anxious fists while taking the remedy, as if he wanted to prove to his father, whose face was now frowned in deep concentration, that he _too_ could be a strong warrior, just like him.

“That a boy, Trunks!” Bulma cheered happily when the child arduously finished his medicine, laying the fondest kiss on his forehead as she grinned proudly at him. “See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Her amorous whisper caressed his cheek as she nuzzled it, overjoyed when the little boy smiled right back at her.

“Trunks,” Vegeta stole his attention once again, setting the empty syringe aside before wiping off, with one finger, a couple of droplets dripping from his son’s plump mouth. “You always listen to your mother, boy,” he instructed with benevolence, a large, hesitant hand petting a tuft of lilac hair, with a sensibility he’d never once displayed towards his son before. “You _always_ do as she says…”         

His astonishing gesture had Bulma gaping at him in teary stupefaction, her breath stuck in her throat, struggling to assimilate the surge of poignant emotions overflowing her. She stared at that immense hand lingering on her son’s fine hair for a beautiful instant, before finding comfort above the smooth curve of her bare knee, and those conflicted eyes watching her intently, his silence but a humble plea, waiting for her to ask _anything_ of him, with the terrifying conviction that he’d follow whatever her heart desired.

And, in that moment, she _knew._

In that moment, as she gawked in bewilderment at a hand which had once upon a time decimated entire galaxies, but that was now cleaning strawberry syrup from the mouth of an innocent child, she knew that they’d _make it_ , that someway, somehow, this enigmatic alien warrior, their little boy and herself, would one day become the family that the Saiyan Prince had never felt worthy of.

“You should go back to bed, Vegeta,” she smiled tearfully at him, her words a demand swathed in velvet. “I can change Trunks’ pajamas and get the bots to clean this by myself…” She promised with calm confidence, releasing a tiny gasp of fear when she felt him losing his balance as he stood precariously from the floor. “Are you alright?” She questioned worriedly, her hand instinctively covering the one he’d just sited on her shoulder while seeking to steady himself.

Vegeta’s face was a stoic mask as he nodded with uncertainty, but he meekly allowed her minuscule hand to gently squeeze his own, a gesture minor in appearance, yet painfully intimate at heart.

Their eyes locked with heated intensity, that unique, at times maddening intensity that made it impossible for them to ever fully let go of each other. Rugged fingertips desperately clinging to the white silk hiding her from him, making him wish for a magical recovery of his good health so that he could kiss silly that weepy smile of hers, sighing in quiet disappointment as he released her and left the room without another word, with the dreadful knowledge that there wasn’t much left for him to do today but to crawl back to their cozy bed.

The Prince didn’t even lift the covers, literally throwing himself on the large mattress and rolling groggily on his side, in the same sleeping position his mate had found him in earlier in the morning, closing his eyes and spying with somnolence on the faded noises still resounding through the baby monitor.

He heard the housework bots efficiently cleaning up the mess dropped on the cream-colored carpet, and those cooing expressions in the background, the voice of his genius mate coddling their son to death whenever she had to change Trunks’ soiled diapers or dirty clothes. Sappy sounds that Vegeta had once found absolutely preposterous, incompatible with the goal of raising a strong Saiyan child, but that now instilled a strange sense of peace within him every time Bulma succeeded in earning those vivacious giggles from the little brat.

The last thing he could recall, before a wave of feverish unconsciousness claimed him, was his face burning up even further when he earwigged the few words pronounced by the new mother as she delicately rested their son in his crib.

_“Did you see that, Trunks?”_ She whispered with inimitable joy. _“Your Papa really cares for you, Baby Boy…”_

 

He must have been a truly remarkable man in a past life, he thought drowsily to himself, relishing the comfort of the large blanket that his woman was covering his shivering figure with as she joined him later on the bed. Perhaps a celebrated fighter, the reincarnation of one of those magnificent Legends who’d died saving his people in glorious battle.

It was the only explanation, the _only_ reason he could find that could make a man like him deserving of the affectionate pair of soft lips showering the nape of his cold neck with languid kisses, or those frail but mysteriously powerful arms draping themselves around his torso, pressing the voluptuousness that was his woman to his back, rubbing herself against him with the indolence of a lazy kitten.

“Thank you…” Bulma’s honeyed voice mumbled into his inflamed skin, her tone loving, _grateful_ , rewarding his bigheartedness with another flood of tender kisses, and chuckling in the most delectable manner when he responded to her disconcerting words of gratitude with a sullen grunt.

Outside, a light autumn rain started to fall, inundating the room with the fresh scent of the green grass surrounding their home’s luxurious gardens, and gladly inviting the Prince to let go, to surrender to the pacifying sounds of the water drizzling over the glass windows, and to the rhythmic breathing of his infant son, sound asleep in the comfort of his nursery.

And, above all, to the soothing presence of the woman lying right behind him, the woman who’d already changed something in his very soul, deeply and fundamentally, making him believe that perhaps a man like him could someday find redemption in a life of peace, a life as a family man.

 

It felt good.

_And he liked feeling good._      

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! I hope I made it work somehow?
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, as always!


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